<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>McClain March Prompts! by youraveragemushroom</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29808591">McClain March Prompts!</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/youraveragemushroom/pseuds/youraveragemushroom'>youraveragemushroom</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(in chapter/day 13), (that should so be a tag wtf), (to my YouTube au lol shameless self-plug go check it out :P ), 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Angst with a Happy Ending, Barista Keith (Voltron), Barista Lance (Voltron), Blankets, Cowboys, Crying, Cryptid Keith (Voltron), Dark Lance (Voltron), Family, Fresno Nightcrawler, Friends With Benefits, Gen, Heist, Hunter Keith (Voltron), Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Kissing in the Rain, Lance finally tells someone about dying, Langst, M/M, Mention - Freeform, Merlance, Parental Blue Lion (Voltron), Siren Lance (Voltron), Surfer Lance (Voltron), Unofficial Sequel, Voltron Lion Swap, Witch Lance (Voltron), YouTuber Lance (Voltron), but again like just barely, chat fic, in the loosest sense, leakira - Freeform, like nothing overtly explicit but yeah, like v low-key lol, lowkey, text fic, they fight but then makeup and kiss in the rain lol</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:27:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,506</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29808591</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/youraveragemushroom/pseuds/youraveragemushroom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of prompts focusing on Lance McClain from Voltron: Legendary Defender. Some are general, but some might have Klance (let's be honest though, I think everything I write will have Klance subtext lol). Works will be short, sometimes snippets of other WIPs, but most will be completed single scenes (unless I go overboard in which case that's on me). Tags will be added and changed as I go! </p><p>(Also these are just for fun, so it's also unbetad lol)</p><p>Prompt list can be found at <a href="https://twitter.com/dailylancevld/status/1358851501607669760">@dailylancevld</a> on Twitter!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Keith &amp; Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron), Lance &amp; Voltron: Legendary Defender Team</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>86</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>73</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Day 1: Royal AU (WIP)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A WIP from my royal au with Altean Prince Lance and guard/knight Keith.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is from a WIP of mine, which I'll hopefully finish soon!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lance shushed him, despite nobody paying any attention to them. “Okay, first thing’s first: you cannot call me that while we’re incognito.”</p><p>Keith frowned. “Incogni—”</p><p>“Second,” Lance barreled on, taking the heavier sack of the two back into his arms, “you have to promise you won’t be mad.”</p><p>The guard sighed, reaching for the bag Lance had thrown over his back. When the prince skirted out of his reach, smacking the outstretched hand, Keith gave up, crossing his arms. </p><p>“Why can’t I be mad?” he asked with a patent glare. “Your high—”</p><p>“Ssh!” Lance exclaimed, this time clapping a hand to the guard’s mouth. “What did I <em> just say </em>?” Wrenching the offending hand away by the wrist, the taller boy retorted with a, “fine—then what shall I call you?”</p><p>Lance thought for a moment, before settling on, “Leandro. From the fairy tale books father always read to Allura when we were kids. He was a handsome, charming, dashing prince, just like me.” </p><p>Keith rolled his eyes. “Are you sure it was Allura who asked for the bedtime stories?”</p><p>Lance, in the most prince-like manner, stuck his tongue out. “And you should adopt an alias as well. How about Akira—the surly demon that the handsome, courageous Leandro would vanquish to save the damsel and the day?”</p><p>“As you wish, Leandro,” Keith chuckled, his eyes taking another cursory look of their surroundings, cataloguing any potential danger. Though his gaze was elsewhere, Lance knew he was just as attentive to their conversation. “But you have yet to tell me the purpose of our little adventure.”</p><p>Lance turned slowly, eyes flitting from stall to stall, before snagging on a figure ducking into a dark alley. “Bingo,” he muttered, hurrying single-mindedly to follow the person before he lost track of them in the crowd.</p><p>Behind him he heard Keith squawk at Lance’s sudden disappearance, before a warm hand circled around his elbow. “Do <em> not </em> wander off like that,” the guard hissed, grip soft but steel on Lance’s arm. If he dropped it a few more inches, they’d be holding hands. The prince pointedly ignored that line of thinking.</p><p>“Relax,” the shorter boy chuckled, eyes fixed on the dark entrance to the alley. “You’ve always got your eye on me. Trust me—I doubt I’ll ever actually be able to slip away from you, <em> Akira </em>.”</p><p>Keith grunted in response, fingers tightening on the fabric of Lance’s sleeve. “Though it might go to your head, I’m begrudged to admit you are much wilier than my nerves can withstand, <em> Leandro </em>.”</p><p>Lance turned to his companion, willing the rising heat to not pool in his face. “Am I really?”</p><p>Keith turned his dark eyes to meet Lance’s cerulean. “Yes. It is one of the most frustrating things for a charge to be, just so you know.”</p><p>Lance smirked. “But you’re endeared either way, I presume. You could’ve asked for reassignment at some point in all our years together, and yet…”</p><p>Keith rolled his eyes, though he did turn his face away from Lance’s smug stare.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! Kudos and comment to feed me some serotonin, and check out my twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/redwlwmushroom">@redwlwmushroom</a> for more fic threads and just general fandom/klance content!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Day 2: Heist!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lance (with the help of Team Punk) is in the midst of a heist when a rival thief threatens to ruin it all.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Prompt list can be found at <a href="https://twitter.com/dailylancevld/status/1358851501607669760">@dailylancevld</a> on Twitter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Are you done yet?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“How ‘bout now?”</p><p>“<em> No </em>.”</p><p>“Now?”</p><p>“Lance!” Pidge exclaimed, tapping roughly on their headset so the feedback went straight into Lance’s earpiece.</p><p>“Ow!” he exclaimed, cupping his ear as if that would help. “Mean!”</p><p>“Well maybe if you weren’t so annoying and let me focus on dismantling the lazer,” Pidge muttered, the faint sound of keyboard clicks picked up by her mic, “we’d be out already.”</p><p>“Guys,” Hunk cut in, voice quivering. “I think someone set off the silent alarm! I just intercepted a call to local law enforcement!”</p><p>“Lance!” Pidge complained.</p><p>“Wasn’t me!” the lanky boy exasperated, turning to scan his surroundings. “I’ve literally just been waiting, right here! Haven’t moved a single inch!”</p><p>“Then explain why the po-po’s on its way over, McClain!” Pidge shouted back, typing even more furiously now that surprise and time weren’t on their side.</p><p>“Guys, we have less than ten minutes!” Hunk cried. “Let’s just cut our losses and leave!”</p><p>“I’m almost in,” Pidge pleaded. “We got this far, and if we leave now who knows when else we’ll get a chance to steal something as big as the Oriande diamond!”</p><p>“Not to mention Sendak will kill us if we don’t deliver,” Lance offered helpfully, ignoring Hunk’s anxious squeak. He was about to continue with some more snark, when a soft thud nearby made him freeze.</p><p>“Wait,” he muttered, causing both his accomplices to freeze on their ends. “I think I heard something.”</p><p>“They’re already here?!” Hunk cried.</p><p>“No, we still have six minutes,” Pidge whispered. “Lance, don’t—”</p><p>“I’m gonna go check it out.”</p><p>“And never mind!” Pidge exhaled roughly. “Just be careful, and be ready for extraction in forty seconds.”</p><p>“Copy,” he whispered, lowering his comms volume to focus. Lance rounded the corner from where he heard the sound, and was met with the sight of a hastily replaced vent cover. Someone else was in here with him.</p><p>“Hands up,” a voice rasped from behind him. “And turn slowly.”</p><p>Lance’s jaw clenched, but he did as he was told. The man in front of him was dressed to match Lance’s all black attire, but his face was also covered, the only part visible being his piercing midnight eyes. His shaggy dark hair was half tucked into an equally dark beanie, though it was long enough to just brush his shoulders. He had a knife held up, pointed directly at Lance’s sternum, and the fierce look in his eyes promised a quick incapacitation.</p><p>“You’re good to go, Lance,” Pidge’s voice emanated from his earpiece.</p><p>“Not now, Pidge,” Lance muttered back. “Kinda in a pickle.”</p><p>“Pickle?” Hunk asked, voice pitched high.</p><p>“Mute yourself,” the mystery man ordered, stepping closer. Lance was already backed against a wall, so he couldn’t escape the prickly tip of the blade pressing against his thin sweater. Pidge was right, they should’ve invested in bulletproof gear.</p><p>“And why would I do that, mullet?” Lance retorted, slipping into his patented faux-bravado that nine times out of ten managed to get him out of precarious situations like these.</p><p>“Woah, are you with someone?” they both heard Pidge say. “Shit, I gave them your name, didn’t I?”</p><p>“Will you now consider the use of code names, <em> Green </em>?” Lance confirmed, addressing his hacker. </p><p>“Noted, Blue,” Pidge replied weakly, and Lance could imagine their sheepish expression.</p><p>“I said,” the man pressed, leaning closer, “mute your mic.”</p><p>And Lance would’ve retorted with another witticism, but the low sirens of police cars shocked them both out of their little bubble. Quickly, Lance took the opportunity to knee the guy in his gut, using his momentum to slam him against the wall.</p><p>“Sorry, bro,” he said, leaving him to collapse on the ground. “You snooze, you lose!”</p><p>Lance rushed back to the diamond display and quickly swiped the fruit of all their efforts. “Got it!” he announced, laughing at the twin sets of cheers from his teammates. “Now I just gotta—”</p><p>He was interrupted by a sharp kick to his knee, and suddenly Lance was on the ground. Turns out mullet was made of stronger stuff. </p><p>“I hate you,” the blue-eyed boy gritted out, turning over. “If it’s a dance you want, though, it’s a dance you’ll get.”</p><p>Punches, jabs, kicks—everything was free game. Lance spit out some banter, hoping it would egg the other on enough to mess him up, but the other thief was silent, completely focused on the fight. The sounds of footsteps on the gallery’s marble flooring jerked them out of position, heads snapping to the hallway from which they echoed.</p><p>“Well, I guess we gotta finish this fight some other time, Swiper,” Lance announced, scrambling to get back to his cable line. He hooked himself in, tugging twice to activate Pidge’s motor to pull him up. “Hope you learned something from <em> The Tailor </em>.”</p><p>“Oh I did,” he replied, pulling down the bandana covering his face to show off a stupidly hot smirk. “Blue-eyed pretty boys make for shit thieves.”</p><p>In his other hand, twinkling innocently between his index finger and thumb, was the Oriande diamond. Lance’s eyes widened at the sight of it, but before he could do anything the cable jerked him up. He watched the smug thief wave his fingers mockingly, before slipping down the hall to this escape vent.</p><p>“Well, fuck.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! Kudos and comment to feed me some serotonin, and check out my twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/redwlwmushroom">@redwlwmushroom</a> for more fic threads and just general fandom/klance content!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Day 3: Mermaid/Siren Lance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Keith shows his siren how to use Spotify, and maybe gets a little serenaded on the way.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(Lowkey very rough and unbetad, so apologies!)</p><p>Prompt list can be found at <a href="https://twitter.com/dailylancevld/status/1358851501607669760">@dailylancevld</a> on Twitter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“And you can listen to this music anywhere?” the siren asked excitedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup,” Keith answered, watching the mer scroll through his Spotify. “Shiro gets premium for cheap with his student discount, so I can download whatever songs I want to listen to when I’m offline.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mer looked up, his face twisted in a familiarly confused expression. “You have to stop saying so many human words at once, Keef.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Keith</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” the human corrected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But Keef rhymes with reef,” the mer retorted, back to scrolling through his playlists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it’s not my name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So? It’s not like you’re calling </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> by my real name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but you </span>
  <em>
    <span>chose</span>
  </em>
  <span> the name Lance,” Keith chuckled. “I didn’t choose to be called </span>
  <em>
    <span>Keef</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance looked up, the gills on his neck flaring a little. “If your human tongue could pronounce my name I wouldn’t have to settle for this stupid human name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then tell me your mer name,” Keith countered, leaning to rest his folded arms on the edge of his little rowboat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance snorted, lifting his unnaturally blue eyes to meet Keith’s midnight ones. “I already told you—giving someone else your name in mer culture is, like, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>huge</span>
  </em>
  <span> deal. The kind of thing you don’t do unless you’re inviting someone into your family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith frowned. “So like when you adopt someone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance shook his head, the translucent fins waving in time, and he made that high-pitched clicking noise that Keith figured out was the mer’s version of a giggle. “No! Like, when you unite with another. For life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith hummed. “Oh, so like marriage, when two people love each other and decide to start a life together?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance shrugged. “I don’t know. Is it permanent?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean,” Keith started, pouting in thought, “it should be, in theory? Like, there’s divorce and annulment and all that, but humans generally don’t go into marriage with the intent to end it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Again, I don’t know what that means,” the siren sassed, shooting Keith and exasperated look. The shiny scales on his face glittered in the midday sun, and Keith was momentarily caught up on the aqua gleam. But Lance’s mesmerizing eyes always managed to draw his gaze back in, and it didn’t help that Keith was a little far gone for the fishboy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never mind,” Keith shook his head, smiling easily. “Have you found a song you wanna hear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance frowned at the phone in his grip. “Ugh, no! How am I supposed to know what’s a good song for human ears? What song do you listen to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, humans generally listen to multiple songs, not just one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” the mer perked up. “That’s fascinating! How do your ears differentiate all the songs if you’re listening to more than one at a time? They look very, uh, rudimentary.” Lance punctuated his statement by reaching out and running a cool finger along the shell of Keith’s ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The human huffed, reaching up and taking the siren’s webbed hand in his. “No, we listen to multiple songs one after the other. Like, we add them to a list and then they play one after the other, and we just replace the songs when we get tired of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” the mer said. “Then what song do you listen to the most? I’d love to hear your favorite one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith paused, letting Lance place the phone back into his hand. He scrolled to his repeat playlist, and found that the number one spot was occupied, unsurprisingly, by </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> song. He chuckled, debating whether to play it or not, when Lance flicked a few drops of water in his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s so funny?” he pouted, ignoring Keith’s yelp as he backed away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be careful!” the human chided, making sure his phone avoided any water damage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance rolled his eyes, something he’d learned from Keith. “Relax, I learned from the last time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Keith huffed. “‘Cause Shiro said he wouldn’t replace my phone again if it gets water damage a third time in a month.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> fault you humans can’t make your devices work in the water!” Lance complained, gripping the side of the boat and leaning into Keith’s space.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith rolled his eyes, ignoring the mer sticking his tongue out at him. “Do you wanna listen to the song or not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance’s sour expression immediately brightened, his sunny smile juxtaposed by the two rows of sharp teeth. Keith really shouldn’t find it so endearing. “Yes!” he announced, gently leaning closer into Keith’s space. “Give me your ears thingies!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith shook his head fondly, plugging in his headphones and putting the earbuds in Lance’s ear-fins correctly. He probably knew by now how they were supposed to sit in the canal, but he let Keith put them in anyway. The human waited for the mer’s thumbs up—another human expression he stole from Keith—before hitting play. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soft crooning of Frankie Valli’s voice started up. Keith watched Lance’s expression intently, the pinched look on his face as he focused on the lilt of the song and the human instruments he’d never heard back home. Keith could pinpoint the exact moment the chorus hit, watching the serious expression on the mer’s face melt into one of awe. The same face his father used to say he made when his mother played the song to him for the first time on their record player back home in Texas. His parents might be gone, and so were the record player and his childhood in the south, but the nostalgia from this classic would always make him feel better on dour days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It sounds magnificent!” Lance exclaimed, clicking again. There was still one more repetition of the verse and chorus before it was over, but Lance was babbling to Keith anyway. “This sounds like music you would dance to! Like, if you had feet and stuff! And the horns—I’ve never heard anything like that back home…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith listened to him, not even attempting to stave off the soft expression on his face. When the song was over, Lance made him restart it two more times. Then he pulled out the ear buds and let Keith wrap the wire around the phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So that is your favorite human song?” Lance asked finally, watching the human.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he said, stuffing his phone back into his water-proof backpack. “It was my parents’ favorite song, and it reminds me of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance nodded, not pressing further. Both boys sat in silence for a moment, eyeing the waves and the horizon beyond it. Keith almost didn’t notice the mer’s soft humming. He turned to find Lance was already looking back, gills and fins flaring a little as he used his voice to hum to him. Keith felt his eyes and ears focus on the beautiful mer while the rest of senses dulled. Lance sounded ten thousand times better than Frankie Valli, and he hadn’t even begun to sing yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“~Pardon the way that I stare, there's nothin' else to compare~,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> the mer crooned, eyes practically glowing to match the iridescent markings on his cheekbones. “~</span>
  <em>
    <span>The sight of you leaves me weak, there are no words left to speak~.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance leaned in, pulling himself more out of the water, so he was face to face—noses brushing—with the human. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“~But if you feel like I feel, please let me know that it's real! You're just too good to be true...Can't take my eyes off of you~.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The mer jokingly mimicked the trumpet noises, causing Keith to giggle even in his half-stupor. One last honk, and the velvet-voiced siren was diving into the chorus, tilting his head to belt it to the heavens.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“~</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>I love you, baby! And if it's quite alright, I need you, baby to warm the lonely night—I love you, baby...Trust in me when I say~,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lance half shouted and half sang, piercing blue eyes boring into Keith’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“~Oh, pretty baby! Don't bring me down, I pray oh, pretty baby. Now that I've found you, stay~,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lance crooned, raising one of the hands bracing him against the boat to cradle Keith’s face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“~And let me love you, baby—Let me love youuu~!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith was absolutely enamored, awestruck, mesmerized, all of the above, and it was only once Lance emitted that high pitched clicking giggle that he realized what the sneaky mer had done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” the human exclaimed, scrambling back from where he was about to fall out of the boat. “I told you, you’re not allowed to sing to me again!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance kept laughing, though he pulled himself completely into the boat with his human boyfriend, letting his tail flop lazily over the side. “But, babe! You look so cute when you’re in the trance!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith huffed, crossing his arms and looking away. He wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> mad—not when he was now confident Lance wouldn’t lure him into the water to eat or drown him—but he liked playing it up to get his boyfriend to give him apology kisses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baaabe!” Lance called, flopping his upper body onto Keith’s pinning him against the opposite side of the boat. “C’mon!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other boy only continued to pout, begrudgingly refusing to meet the mer’s eyes (it was so hard).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keeeeeef!” the mer whined, using his webbed fingers to poke him in the sides. “Love meeeee!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm-mm,” he hummed, shaking his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance huffed, pressing his chin to the other’s chest and looking up with the closest thing a siren could make to puppy dog eyes. Keith looked down, refusing to let him win. But it wasn’t long before his mouth began to twitch and his stoic expression broke, causing the mer to cheer, and squeeze the human around his waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I win,” Lance teased, leaning up so their faces were lined up. “What’s my prize?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Keith hummed, resting his eyes on the mer’s back, running his fingertips over the place where scales met smooth, bronze skin. “What do you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance pretended to think, before smirking devilishly—an obnoxiously human expression he managed to figure out all on his own, somehow. “Close your eyes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Keith acquiesced, letting his eyelids flutter shut. He had a feeling he knew what was coming next, but the anticipation made his heart beat faster. Not to mention, his siren boyfriend was pretty hot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance giggled again, probably feeling the change in the human’s heartbeat under his chest. Keith was about to retort with some bullshit explanation for it, when he felt a cool palm caress his halfway sunburnt cheek, and a pair of cool, salty lips meet his. They made out for a while, sprawled out in Keith’s rickety little rowboat, bathed in the warm summer sun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should show me more human music next time,” Lance murmured from his spot on Keith’s chest, his fingers absently playing with the human’s dark, wavy hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything for you, sweetheart.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! Kudos and comment to feed me some serotonin, and check out my twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/redwlwmushroom">@redwlwmushroom</a> for more fic threads and just general fandom/klance content!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Day 4: Leader</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Blue team leader Lance refuses to lose to the stupid Red team, especially when his rival team leader thinks he can devilishly smirk his way to victory.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Once again, unbetad as hell lol.</p><p>ALSO! This chapter is dedicated to the fearless leader of our chaotic KFC discord server, so thanks Orion for being the fucking best and not kicking me out even though I definitely deserved it a few times prolly lol :)! Check 'em out on Ao3 at <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/phosphorus_alnilam_saiph/pseuds/phosphorus_alnilam_saiph">phosphorus_alnilam_saiph</a>!</p><p>Prompt list can be found at <a href="https://twitter.com/dailylancevld/status/1358851501607669760">@dailylancevld</a> on Twitter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“All right, team!” Lance shouted, calling all eyes to him. “Today is finally here! The day you’ve all been waiting for.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Lance!” Benjamin shouted, raising his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance mentally sighed, dropping the pep a little. “Yes, Benjamin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gotta go pee!” the kid exclaimed, causing the rest of the five-and-six year olds to burst into giggles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Benny,” Lance whined, rubbing his eyes, “Where were you when I called for a bathroom check before we left the dining hall?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t have to go then!” The kids laughed harder, and even Lance had to fight the twitch at the corner of his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance sighed loudly for real, exaggeratedly playing it up for the kids. “Fine...take a buddy and be back quick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks Mr. Lance!” the curly-headed shouted, grabbing his friend’s arm and bolting to the building they’d all just come out of. Lance shook his head, watching until they made it inside, before turning back to the rest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess it’s just the eight of us, then,” Lance chuckled, doing another headcount to make sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nine,” Stephanie piped up. “You forgot to count yourself, Mr. Lance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, right,” Lance announced, making sure to verbally do a headcount and include himself for the kids. “Thanks, kiddo! Anyway, back to my pep talk—where was I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the day we’ve all been waiting for,” Stella cheered, jumping in place. “We’re gonna </span>
  <em>
    <span>crush </span>
  </em>
  <span>the red team!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance chuckled, patting her head to get her to sit down. “Well, I didn’t quite get there yet, but you got the right spirit, kiddo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Crush ‘em!” Stella shouted, pumping her fists into the air from where she was now sitting criss-cross applesauce. A few of the other kids joined in on her war cry, pumping their little fists as they ragged on the red team.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice mini-mutiny you got there, McClain,” a familiar voice called from across the picnic tables. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the other side of the field was the red team. Ten little kids just like Lance’s were standing in a group, and in front of them stood their leader. Keith looked a little sunburnt, dark hair pulled up into a stubby ponytail. His tank top was bright red and the arm holes hung loose, perfect for the summer heat. Between his exposed sides and those rolled up shorts, Lance was going to die from thirst.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please!” the blue team’s captain retorted. “The blue team is the fiercest, coolest, and most awesomest team! We are a well-oiled machine, Kogane, and we will </span>
  <em>
    <span>take you down</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At his charge response the kids shouted too, jumping to their feet and pointing to the equally rowdy red team.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are going </span>
  <em>
    <span>down</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Farha</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Stella called, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Get ready to eat </span>
  <em>
    <span>dirt</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance’s eyes widened, and he tugged lightly on the wild girl’s ponytail to get her attention. “Stella!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More like </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> gonna eat dirt!” a kid in a red hijab countered, waving her fists wildly. “I will make you regret the day you were born, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stella Anderson</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Farha!” Keith exclaimed, blinking wildly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other kids joined in on the teasing and jeering, ignoring both the adults’ attempts at getting them to settle down. It was only when a shrill whistle blew that both teams went silent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay!” Coran, the head of recreation, called out. “We’re just about ready to start! Will both teams form a single file line and follow me, please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Lance needed to ask Coran what his secret was, because the children did exactly as asked and followed the mustachioed man out onto the pitch. Lance and Keith waited back leaving the kids to Coran’s charge. Lance caught sight of a familiar head of silver in the distance, nodding at Shiro as he finished setting up the obstacle course for the kids. It was time for the team leaders’ break, while the other adults watched over the kids’ competition for the next half hour. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see your kids are pumped,” Keith remarked, making his way to where Lance had seated himself on one of the picnic tables. He hopped up, sitting beside the blue shirted boy, knees just barely brushing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stella is a firecracker,” Lance chuckled, watching as she rallied the rest of the blue team in a peppy cheer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Farha’ll beat her, though,” Keith teased, nodding to where the girl from the red team was silently glaring at her arch nemesis. “I saw her sketching potential game plans on a napkin during breakfast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance burst out laughing at that, leaning against the other boy. “Wow. Guess she really takes after her leader, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith rolled his eyes, elbowing him softly. “I could say the same about you and your mini-me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stella is a delight,” Lance argued. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never said she wasn’t,” Keith said. “But she’s also </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> loud…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I resent that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith smirked, a low chuckle sounding from his throat. “It’s the truth, babe. What can I say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance pouted. “How ‘bout something nice, for once?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Keith’s turn to pout. “I say nice things to you,” he whined, poking him in the cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance scoffed. “You haven’t said a nice thing to me since you asked me out—and that was months ago!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith huffed in faux-exasperation, leaning to force his boyfriend to look him directly in the eyes. “Oh really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance raised an eyebrow. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanna rethink that?” Keith murmured, leaning in closer. He reached out, brushing a finger against Lance’s collarbone under his shirt. The brunette’s breath hitched, remembering the still-purple bruise on his skin, in the shape of Keith’s mouth. “‘Cause I distinctly remember whispering the </span>
  <em>
    <span>sweetest</span>
  </em>
  <span> things in your ear last night when we—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Lance!” Benjamin shouted, running up to the team leaders. The older boys pulled apart quickly, and Lance turned to see Benjamin and his friend—”Oliver, but he’s also fine with Ollie, Mr. Lance”—panting at their sudden run.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey kiddos!” Lance exclaimed, throwing on a wider-than-normal grin and hoping the heat rushing to his face could be blamed on the sun and not his stupidly hot boyfriend reminding him of their R rated night together. “Just in time—Mr. Coran’s just about to start. Hurry!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Benny!” Stella called, waving her arms fervently. “Get your butt over here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stella!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, Mr. Lance,” she called out sheepishly, though her focus was soon on the two out-of-breath boys, likely sharing the gameplan with them before they were set to begin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance relaxed once they were out of earshot, turning fully to face his devious boyfriend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re cruel,” Lance muttered, eyeing the other boy’s smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That wasn’t what you said last—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keith!” Lance exclaimed, slapping a hand to his mouth. “I swear to—how did you even get a job watching children with that filthy mouth of yours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith shrugged, pulling away and capturing Lance’s hand with his own. “Shiro needed an extra body, I needed the extra cash.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance huffed exasperatedly, though he let his moody expression crack in favor of a small smile. Keith tugged on his hands, and Lance looked over with a raised brow. With a glance at the field, making sure nobody was looking over, Keith swooped in and pressed a quick and chaste kiss to his lips. Lance tasted a hint of his strawberry lip balm—</span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>knew</span>
  <em>
    <span> the bastard stole it last week!</span>
  </em>
  <span>—before Keith pulled back and it was over, though the light flush on the raven-haired boy’s cheeks was well worth the unsatisfying peck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Later,” Keith promised, pressing one last kiss to his lips before standing up. “For now, I got a game to win.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blue-eyed boy chuckled, shoving the other to get a head start as he ran to the pitch. “Oh it’s on, mullet!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance heard Keith’s laughter from behind him, catching up to him despite his shorter legs, and his heart felt lighter than air.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! Kudos and comment to feed me some serotonin, and check out my twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/redwlwmushroom">@redwlwmushroom</a> for more fic threads and just general fandom/klance content!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Day 5: Cyberpunk (Leakira)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A Leakira retelling and a reversal of the bonding moment, though you get to decide if Akira remembers anything.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Prompt list can be found at <a href="https://twitter.com/dailylancevld/status/1358851501607669760">@dailylancevld</a> on Twitter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Leandro sighed, adjusting the barrel of the rifle against his shoulder where it was digging in awkwardly. He hated being the team’s sniper in times like this—when his job entailed a lot of waiting. He wished he could just whip out his twin guns and join Red where the action was happening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But no! No, he was their resident sniper, and that meant waiting in silence until the stakes were way too high to fuck up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You still there, Blue?” Green’s tinny voice rang out of the receiver nestled in Leandro’s ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Roger, Green,” he responded, keeping it succinct. “Bored out of my mind, but here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better that than dead,” Yellow retorted, chuckling nervously. “Anyone got eyes on Red?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you were the guy in the chair, Yell,” Leandro chuckled. “Shouldn’t you have eyes on all of us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s some interference coming from the warehouse,” Yellow whined, rising panic in his tone. “I don’t have a read on Red </span>
  <em>
    <span>or</span>
  </em>
  <span> Black and it’s stressing me out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Need me to drop down?” Green offered, the quick clacking of their keyboard pausing. “The upload’s almost done, so I can sweep the area real quick and let my laptop take care of the rest?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Yellow could answer, a sharp feedback rang in Leandro’s earpiece, and he heard his other teammates’ cries of pain as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“—re trapped—too many—here!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Black?” Yellow called. “Was that Black? Come in!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Red?” Green called out. “Guys can you hear either of them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A different voice, but just as strained. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“—ack down! I ca—off, too ma—”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you lead them to the roof?” Leandro cut in, readjusting his rifle in anticipation. “I can spot an alcove you can duck into while I take care of the rest—you can trust me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a tense silence where all three of the teammates waited for a response. Instead of broken radio chatter, Leandro was startled by the sights of the roof door slamming open on the warehouse building he’d been marking, the sight of a boy and a man limping to the aforementioned alcove clear as day. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So this is Red and Black…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Leandro ignored that thought for later, focusing on the androids pouring onto the roof after the injured teammates, scanning for their enemies. But they wouldn’t see the sharpshooter, poised a few buildings away as he shot them down, one-by-one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck is happening?” one cried out, before getting shot between the eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s coming from that direction!” another shouted, pointing a little left of Leandro. He only had a few more moments to off the rest before they caught onto his location. One of them had a shoulder-cannon, and the sniper didn’t want to find out how localized its ammunition could get.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shot a few more down, but one of the others caught sight of him, waving the brute with the large weapon to aim his way. Another shielded them from Leandro’s expert shots, meaning he only had a few seconds to jump ship before he became pulverized meat. But the android was already aiming, and Leandro could only whisper his last prayers and hope they made it to whatever heaven there was on time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sudden roar in his ear jarred him from his reverie, and Leandro’s eyes shot open to see a familiar figure in a red bomber jacket tackle the androids aiming at the sharpshooter. The missile veered off-course, hitting the building next to Leandro’s and raining concrete dust over him. He coughed, hurriedly using this temporary distraction to make his escape, engaging the mini-boosters on his boots to help him jump a few buildings over. He quickly found another vantage point and dropped, eyeing the new scene before him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Black was half-passed out, leaning against the far wall of the little alcove, but the android enemies’ attention was on the blur of red laying waste with nothing but a glowing sword and a ferocity born of desperation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I c-can’t—hold them off much—longer, Blue,” Red grunted, pausing to duck swings and catch his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t have to,” Leandro responded, lining up shots and thinning the crowd. At one point, Leandro executed a three-way headshot, whooping in the comms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take that, Haggar!” he laughed, shooting down two other enemies before they could get to Red. “And that’s why I’m the </span>
  <em>
    <span>cool</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ninja</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sharpshooter</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the team!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But luck was not on their side. With only two androids left, Leandro was sure they had victory in the bag, when a sudden piercing drone echoed from the warehouse, and his rifle went dark. The trigger froze, and the glow dimmed to nothing as the electronic device went offline. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, guys?” Leandro called. “My rifle’s down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence. Their comms were out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leandro moved away from the scope, taking in the sight below with his naked eyes. Red’s sword, normally illuminated an electric blue from hilt up, was gone. The electric blade was missing, an empty hilt uselessly clutched in his teammates hand as the last two androids advanced on him. Because of course their robotic arms and mecha gear would still be online. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leandro eyed the drop from his building to the roof, and swallowed his fear as he took a running leap. He rolled into his landing, using the momentum to pull into a sprint, towards where Red was a second away from getting overpowered by the two enemies. The sniper dropped his rifle, tugging two dual guns—old fashioned bullets and all, straight out of a 21st century movie—and taking in a deep breath. They hadn’t spotted him yet, and he was going to make both of these shots count.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BANG!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The smoke was still coming off the guns when both bodies fell, revealing a startled boy about Leandro’s age, wearing a red bomber jacket and staring at him with wide, midnight eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gotcha, buddy,” Leandro called, winking. He tucked the pistols back into their harnesses, slinging his currently dead but trusty rifle on his back. The sharpshooter made his way over to the other boy, taking in his angular face and blood-stained star-white hair—</span>
  <em>
    <span>was that a fucking mullet</span>
  </em>
  <span>—and extended an arm to help him up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The name’s Blue,” he said, smirking. “And the pleasure’s all mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cheesy line seemed to snap the boy out of whatever reverie he seemed stuck in. He accepted the hand, allowing himself to be tugged to a stand. Evidently the blood in his hair seemed to flow from a cut at his hairline, and the bleeding was more profuse than either boy anticipated. Leandro wrapped his other arm around the other boy’s waist when he pitched to the side, keeping him upright while his eyes focused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” he muttered. “M’lightheaded...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” Leandro agreed, setting him back down to lay flat on his back. He kneeled over him, gently lifting the hair from the wound. “We need to staunch the bleeding first. We can worry about disinfecting and stitching it up at HQ.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without a pause, the sniper took off his bulky coat—filled to the brim with pockets of ammunition—and tore the fabric off the bottom half of his sleeveless turtleneck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’re y’doing,” the other boy murmured, eyes flicking back and forth from Leandro’s face to his hands and shirt.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Staunching the blood flow,” he answered lightly, wrapping the fabric around the delirious boy’s forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dark brows pinched together as the boy frowned. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leandro chuckled nervously, focused on his task. “Because I don’t want you to bleed out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because we’re teammates, and I refuse to have a teammate die on me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re...t’mates?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Leandro huffed, securing the knot tightly. “I’m Blue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sniper,” the boy muttered, blinking slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup,” Leandro assured. “Sniper, gunslinger, overall sharpshooter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeahhhh,” the boy agreed, nodding as much as he could from his position laying flat. “You took ‘em out so...good? Like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>bam!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leandro chuckled, making eye contact with the boy. “Yeah. Like </span>
  <em>
    <span>bam</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Leandro shuffled through the pockets of his coat, finally finding the device he was looking for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Bingo</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he muttered, pressing the single button on the keypad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Z’nt at a dog’s name?” the boy questioned, eyes fluttering shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, ah, ah,” Leandro chanted, poking the boy in his dimpled cheek. Dark eyes reopened, hazily focusing on Leandro’s blue ones. “You gotta stay awake, dude. Can’t have you and Black passed out before the extraction team gets here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the mention of their other teammate, the boy’s eyes widened. “Shiro! Shi—is he okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried getting up, but Leandro held him down. “Woah! Take it easy. Black’s fine, don’t worry your pretty little head about it, man. Just, stay still and focus on not dying, kay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And although he looked reluctant to comply, the boy didn’t resist, though his frown stayed put. “...‘Kay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Leandro sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whazzur name ‘gain?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blue,” Leandro answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” The boy frowned deeper. “You sound different in person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? Miss the tinny tone from the earpieces, Red?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red shook his head, deep, dark eyes boring into Leandro’s. “Nah. Y’sound waaaaay hotter in person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leandro choked, blinking rapidly. “Uh, oh yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhhm,” Red agreed. “Look way hotter than I pictured, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leandro snorted at that. “Why thank you, Red. You look way hotter than I pictured too, though I kinda didn’t expect you to be bleeding out when I imagined us meeting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Kira,” he muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance frowned, leaning in closer. “Hm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Name’s...Akira,” he repeated, speech and blinking much slower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Akira,” Leandro tested out, liking the way it felt on his tongue. “Nice to meet you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pleasure’s yours,” Akira retorted, causing Leandro to laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Leandro,” the sharpshooter chuckled. “And it definitely is.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! Kudos and comment to feed me some serotonin, and check out my twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/redwlwmushroom">@redwlwmushroom</a> for more fic threads and just general fandom/klance content!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Day 6: Family</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>a 5+1 fic of Lance bonding with Team Voltron over family (part one of two)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(This is a two-part one and the +1 will be uploaded in a separate chapter, btw!)</p>
<p>Prompt list can be found at <a href="https://twitter.com/dailylancevld/status/1358851501607669760">@dailylancevld</a> on Twitter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>            Coran - nephew</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hand me the rebombori rag,” Coran said, hand outstretched.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh…” The blue paladin glanced awkwardly at the work table, eyeing the many tools and hoping he would automatically know what the hell a rebombori rag was. Spoiler alert, he did not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The orange piece of cloth with a hole punched in the middle,” Coran explained, not removing his head from where it was bent into an open hatch on the main panel. Lance hurriedly passed over the </span>
  <em>
    <span>rebombori rag</span>
  </em>
  <span>, accepting Coran’s enthusiastic, “thank you, m’boy!” with a hum.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what exactly are you doing again?” Lance asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The castle’s been acting a little funky ever since we switched Balmera crystals,” he grunted, “so I’m just tightening the ole bolts and screws so she doesn’t fall apart on us like a Porywargon cutting a flannergastry!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance nodded, not even bothering asking about the strange terms. He loved Coran, but a twenty minute lecture on just what a Porywargon was and where one could find one was just not worth it, much less a second one for whatever as flannergastry was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about you, paladin blue?” the man asked, voice echoing back from the metallic inside of the panel. “Don’t you have any plans with the other youngsters?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance shifted awkwardly, fingers twiddling idly. “Uh, not really? Hunk and Pidge are kinda busy with this new piece of tech Matt sent over, Allura’s buried in some paperwork from the leaders of the last planet we stopped by, I don’t really know where Shiro is, to be honest, and I’m not looking to get dragged to do extra exercise, so mullet’s out of the question.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Understandable,” Coran hummed, finally straightening. His regularly-tidy moustache was in disarray, and his forehead was caked with what appeared to be motor oil? “Well, I definitely appreciate the company, young paladin!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No problem, Coran,” Lance chuckled, handing him what he assumed was a clean rag. “Happy to help my favorite space-uncle.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Space-uncle?” Coran exclaimed. “Is that my new title, now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Unofficially,” Lance shrugged. “Would you prefer something else?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Coran hummed, lost in thought. He grabbed two juice pouches from the workbench and sat down on the step, patting the spot next to him. Lance took it, as well as the second juice pouch Coran pushed into his palm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I had a nephew, back before,” he said softly, poking a hole in the pouch with the straw. “He had pink marks, just like the princess, and the same orange head of hair as me, though his was much curlier…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He paused, taking a sip from the pouch, eyes steeling as they gazed ahead. “His name was Parem.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance let the silence linger, digesting the information. For as close as they’d all become on the castleship, Coran had never truly spoken about Altea or his old life. Lance felt the gravity of the moment, and let it weigh him down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me about him,” the blue paladin encouraged. “He sounds like an Altean version of my nephew, Sylvio.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Coran smiled, glancing at the teen. “Was your Sylvio a mischievous little tyke, too?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance smirked, though his eyes were misty with memories. “The most mischievous, yes. Luis, my brother, definitely deserved it though, with how much he bullied me growing up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Coran laughed at that. “Yes, I agree, with my little Parem. He got his devious nature from me, though, and my brother cursed us every day for our pranks. My favorite was when he put a quackledorp in his father’s body cleanser. His skin was the color green for months!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance joined the laughter, reminiscing about the time he and Sylvio slipped temporary blue hair dye in his brother’s conditioner, but because of some chemical reaction it stained it for weeks. The two swapped stories of their nephews, reminiscing over the good times, commiserating over the feelings of loss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry you didn’t get to see him,” Lance said, a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Before you had to leave.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The same to you, my boy,” Coran murmured, reaching up to squeeze Lance’s hand. “But I know you will get to see him again, Lance. I will make sure of it—that you will all get back to your homes when this is all over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance hoped his smile wasn’t too watery, ducking to hug the man before the tears fell. Coran rubbed his back, letting him breath a little too heavily and a little too quick. They stayed like that a moment, two soldiers missing home. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blue paladin pulled away after a moment and they resumed work on the main panel, their hearts a little lighter now that the burden of loss was shared.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>            Allura - father</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soon after they restarted their work, the space mice dropped on Lance from the vents, definitely not scaring the teen. They scurried down his arms, settling in his opened palms, and squeaked at him to follow. Bidding Coran adieu, Lance hurried to follow the little squeakers, nearly losing them at least four times. They finally stopped at Allura’s study, tugging on his pant leg. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Lance asked, looking down at them. “No, Allura’s busy, you guys.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Squeaking.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Yeah, I know, she told me not to disturb her for at least another hour ‘cause she was in a groove.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>More squeaking.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Guys, no! The last thing I want is an angry space-princess on my hands, alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lance?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blue paladin yelped, startled. Somewhere during his conversation with the mice, Allura had snuck up on him and opened the door to her study, having spotted him in a heated debate with her rodent companions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Allura!” Lance exclaimed, a few decibels louder than he wanted. “Hi! The mice, uh, wanted me to get you to take a break. But I know you said not to disturb you until dinner, so I’ll just go—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no!” she interjected, blinking. “It’s quite alright, actually. I was looking to take a break, rest my eyes a bit, before starting back up after dinner.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance nodded, smiling. “Gotcha! Cool. Well, I’m at your service, princess!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Allura giggled, shaking her head. “Well, I was going to stretch my legs with a walk, if you’d like to accompany me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance bowed dramatically, before offering her an elbow. “It would absolutely be my pleasure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The princess rolled her eyes, though the smile on her face belied her amusement at Lance’s cheeky antics. He’s really grateful they moved past the awkward stage where Lance always put his foot in his mouth and Allura sighed tiredly at his rampant flirting. Now Lance could throw her a cheesy line and she’d just roll her eyes or even tease him back, always spawning a blush on his cheeks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They walked around aimlessly, Lance asking about the random vases or tapestries they passed, Allura answering with as much or little information she had. They stopped at a giant framed painting of King Alfor, looking recently coronated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This was his least favorite depiction of himself,” Allura commented, voice only slightly strained. “He kept telling me he needed to remove this painting when he had the time, but then he’d forget about it until he stumbled across it again. That’s why it’s so far away from the main rooms of the castle.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance hummed, staring up at the regal image of the former Altean king. “I mean, he looks handsome? Like what I’d imagine of royalty.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Allura chuckled lightly, resting her head against his shoulder. “Yes. Father hated it for that reason specifically. Said he looked too serious.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was he really like?” Lance prompted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Silly,” she said immediately, and he could picture the smile blooming on her lips from whatever memory she was recalling. “He was always making weird faces to get me to laugh during serious events. It was a common game for us at balls and galas, to try and get the other to laugh in the middle of a discussion with other nobility. He always won, though, which I used to hate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance grinned, resting his head lightly against hers. “Sounds like my pops.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your father?” Allura asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance nodded, messing up her curls a little. “Yeah. Papa was pretty goofy, too. Always made mama and my siblings and me laugh as soon as we came down for breakfast. Said the best way to start the day was with a smile and a full stomach.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He sounds lovely, Lance.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Lance whispered back. “He...We lost him a few years ago to cancer—uh, a terminal illness—and it was the absolute worst. Nobody laughed anymore and the house was so...silent. I’d never heard silence before. Not with four loud siblings, and parents who loved to have the radio playing all the time, and always shouting at us to play nice with each other, and the laughter that always echoed from every room of the house…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t think I’d ever see mama smile again,” he confessed, mouth pinched to keep it from trembling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Allura’s arm slipped from his elbow, her hand finding his to give it a tight squeeze. “It was the same when mother died. Father didn’t smile for ages.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What got him to, again?” Lance sniffled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Allura paused, head shifting on Lance’s shoulder to look back up at her father’s portrait. “I ran away one afternoon. Snuck past my guards and skipped a session with the tutor. Spent all day picking the prettiest juniberries I could find, only returning once I couldn’t carry anymore without dropping the ones in my arms. My father had been terrified when my governess told him I was missing, and he’d been pacing furiously in the throne room, when I burst in with my dress rumpled and dirt on my face, arms full of wild juniberries I could have just as easily procured from the royal gardens. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what tipped him over, but soon he was cackling and crying and holding me tight, and for the first time since mother died I felt alright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance hummed, picturing a young Allura in a muddied dress and grass in her hair, smiling at the mental image. “For us it was Marco slipping on a banana peel and face planting on the kitchen tiles.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Allura laughed heartily, though Lance knew she didn’t know what a banana was, or the relevance of the fruit in classic slapstick comedy, but soon he joined her laughter and moved onto the next corridor of their walk.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>            Shiro - grandfather</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance had checked almost every common space in the main section of the ship and was steeling himself to check Shiro’s bedroom when he finally found the man in one of the abandoned observation rooms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shiro?” Lance questioned, tilting his head upside down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The black paladin’s eyes shot open, though Lance luckily didn’t startle him enough to make him fall over. Shiro was upside down, held up by his forearms as he folded his legs and straightened his spine, as if he was sitting criss-cross applesauce, but upside down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lance,” Shiro grunted, shifting his balance so he didn’t fall forward. “What’s up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance blinked, still peering at the man upside down. “Uh, just rallying everyone up for dinner. What’s up with you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shiro, who had closed his eyes again, breathed deeply. “Evening yoga,” he answered, tone light. “I’ll be there in a little bit, you guys can start without me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, okay…” Lance straightened, turning on his heel. He was about to leave the room, when he changed his mind and doubled back, sitting in an inverted position in front of the other paladin. Shiro opened an eye, not surprised to find his teammate still here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Need anything?” he asked, not even slightly out of breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, how do you do that?” Lance asked bluntly. “You’re, like, not even breaking a sweat, dude! And you’re still breathing normally, what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shiro chuckled, stiffening his muscles so he didn’t sway. “A lot of practice. And core strength, for sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn,” Lance muttered, whistling low. “How many crunches and hours on the treadmill before I can do that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shiro laughed outright, unfurling his legs and touching back down. The taller man copied Lance’s position, sitting in front of him. “I don’t think your problem is your strength or stamina, Lance. I’ve seen your training scores—good progress, by the way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance flushed at that, smiling. He doubts he’ll ever get over the admiration and awe he feels whenever Shiro—his idol turned teammate—compliments him on anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re gonna have to work on your balance,” he continues, gesturing for the boy to copy him. Lance eyed Shiro’s stiff, straight posture, copying him as best as he could. “To work up to a headstand, much less a yoga inversion, you gotta make sure you’re at peace with your body.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance frowned at that. “Like loving yourself and shit?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shiro chuckled. “Um, not exactly, though it doesn’t hurt to have a little self-love. I meant more like relaxing your muscles enough to have them work with you instead of against you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The black paladin breathed in deep and Lance followed, exhaling on the other’s command. They breathed like that for a bit, and Lance closed his eyes to mimic his leader’s, letting his thoughts fade into background noise as he focused on the air moving through him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where did you learn this stuff?” Lance asked, opening an eye and breaking the silence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shiro didn’t seem to mind, answering with his eyes still shut. “My grandfather thought yoga would help me focus better. I had trouble focusing on classes, went a long time undiagnosed. The yoga and breathing exercises didn’t help as much as proper medication, but I still liked doing it with him. Gave us something to bond over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I get it,” Lance responded, breathing in deep. “My grandpa taught me how to crochet, back when I used to visit him in Cuba. He bought me my first hook and let me pick from his huge basket of yarn, and by the end of the summer I made him the ugliest scarf ever.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shiro cracked a smile at that, eyes still closed. “I’m sure it was his favorite one to wear, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance smiled back. “It was. He’d send me selfies every time he’d wear it, even though I made him a much better one once I got better at it. Said the memory kept him warmer than the scarf.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your grandfather sounds very wise,” Shiro retorted, opening his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So does yours,” Lance replied, exhaling deeply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They spent a few more minutes breathing, and Lance could feel something akin to peace.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>            Pidge - brother</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dinner was over quick, everyone anxious to wind down for the night after a grueling day of doing...whatever it is everyone did. Post-dinner activities usually meant alone time if Lance or Allura didn’t instate a mandatory bonding activity, but tonight was different for the blue paladin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aaaaand </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> makes it the thirty-fourth win in a row!” Pidge cheered, ignoring Lance’s groan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you keep </span>
  <em>
    <span>doing</span>
  </em>
  <span> that?!” he exclaimed, glaring at the Altean monitor that was currently telling him he lost yet another round to the green paladin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” the younger paladin consoled, smirking. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?” Lance huffed, rubbing his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Pidge bragged. “Matt and I always compete when there’s a one v one option on video games, and this one has been our main fixation whenever he stops by to visit. We used to be pretty even, but I guess I’ve had a lot more time to practice, since he’s been busy with the rebels…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance glanced over to see the green paladin pouting, wiping their spectacles with the hem of their shirt. “Miss him, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pidge sighed, putting their glasses back on. “Yeah, obviously. But I know I shouldn’t complain, ‘cause at least I get to see him sometimes. I can’t even imagine how you guys do it, knowing the only chance you have to see the rest of your families is to win this war.” Pidge’s eyes widen, before they hurry to amend their statement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean,” they started, “of course I miss mom and worry about not seeing her, but between Matt’s visits and knowing dad’s on his way home, I don’t have to worry as much, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance chuckled, reaching over to muss up their hair. “Yeah, yeah, Pidgeotto. But that doesn’t mean it’s easier. We may have to miss our families back home, but at least we know they’re safe on Earth, at least for now. I can’t imagine Marco or Luis being out here, and not knowing if I’d see them again. I mean, Matt’s totally more capable than either of my dumb brothers, so I know he’ll be fine. But it’s nerve-wracking nonetheless, so you don’t have to feel guilty about wanting to keep him close.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pidge nodded slowly, peering at Lance from under their unruly fringe. “That was...I didn’t realize I needed to hear that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance shrugged, playing with the zipper on his jacket. “As long as you heard it…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blue paladin yelped in shock when he felt a pair of skinny arms wrap around his waist, a familiar frizzy head tucking under his chin. In all their time in space, Lance doesn’t think he could remember ever getting a one-on-one hug from the notoriously affection-averse green paladin. Huffing in incredulity, Lance wrapped his arms around the youngest member of Team Voltron, making the most of this rare display of affection.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>            Hunk - mother</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On his way back to his room after putting Pidge to bed—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t need to be tucked into bed, Lance. I’m not a child!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I don’t tuck you in, then I can’t say I did my best in trying to make you go to sleep at a reasonable time!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh, who are you? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shiro</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I resent that, gremlin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—Lance stopped by the kitchen to grab a glass of water for hydration (arguably the most important step in his skincare routine). He almost walked right into Hunk, eyes half lidded from general fatigue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Woah!” the yellow paladin exclaimed, side-stepping his tired friend. “You’re still awake, bro?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance yawned, nodding. “Yeah. Had to fight Pidge to go to bed, but I think they’re probably knocked out by now. Trick is to get them horizontal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hunk chuckled, clapping a hand to Lance’s shoulder. “I’ll keep that in mind. What about you, though? You heading to bed?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance sighed, groaning. “Soon! Soon, definitely. Thought I’d grab a water pouch or something before I make my rounds.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hunk frowned. “Rounds?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blue paladin winced, cursing his sleep addled brain for letting his nightly activities slip. “Ah, any chance you didn’t hear that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hunk levelled him with a look. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Lance.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh, fine,” he exclaimed, making his way to the fridge to swipe some drink pouches. “It’s just something I do sometimes as a way to calm down, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, explain?” the taller boy asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just,” Lance hesitated, “like to check up on everyone, sorta. Like make sure they’re fine, that they’re asleep or whatever, that everyone’s accounted for?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hunk hummed, leaning against the counter next to the lanky boy. “That...I get it, sort of.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s something my mom would do,” Lance confessed, smiling sheepishly at the other boy. “I used to think it was because she wanted to make sure we weren’t staying up on our phones or something, but I feel like I understand her better, now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blue paladin sighed, dropping his head onto his friend’s shoulder. “It just helps me sleep better at night when I know you guys are all...here. Can’t really ask for much more in the middle of a space war, heh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hunk draped an arm across his friend’s shoulders, squeezing him into a comforting side-hug. “I understand that, buddy. You gotta do what you gotta do. You can’t go to bed without snooping in on the rest of us—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“—and that’s your truth,” he teased, poking him in the cheek. “My mama couldn’t go to bed without a cup of coffee. Mom always harped on her about it, said it made no sense at all and she’s killing her stomach lining or some shit. But every night she’d brew mama a cup and make hot chocolate for Lailani and me, and that just became routine, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance smiled at the thought, remembering the few times he’d met the other Garretts, adding them to the long list of people he missed from home. “How are you coping, then? Radioactively warm food goo isn’t exactly a substitute for Mama Garrett’s hot chocolate…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hunk snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, no. I don’t know, really? Kinda glad we don’t have hot cocoa out here in space. It’d feel too much like home, but it wouldn’t be right without them, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance nodded, wrapping his arms around Hunk’s middle to give him a proper hug. “Yeah. I get it. Sometimes space is so quiet and I wanna sing Selena like mama would when she did chores around the house, but I just know it’ll hurt more since I don’t know when I’ll see her again—</span>
  <em>
    <span>if</span>
  </em>
  <span> I will…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hunk hugged him back, both boys’ arms holding the other tightly, commiserating in the longing of a life they had on Earth. Because no matter how awesome it is that they’re literally the defenders of the universe, none of them ever chose this. The Alteans didn’t choose to lose their civilization, and the paladins never chose to mindmeld with mecha lions. Though they wouldn’t give it up for the world, it was never the plan they had for their future.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We should head to bed,” Hunk said once they pulled away. “Rumor has it Allura’s planning a surprise drill early tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance groaned, pocketing his juice pouches and stealing a few snack bars from the kitchen drawer next to him. “Man, I love Allura but I freaking hate her sometimes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hunk chuckled, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “Ditto, bro. Don’t stay up too late though, yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blue paladin sighed loudly, nodding. “Yeah, yeah. Bright and early in the morning, dude, I got it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sweet,” the yellow paladin answered, offering his friend a fist to bump. “Night, bro.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance smiled, bumping fists. “Night, Hunk.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! Kudos and comment to feed me some serotonin, and check out my twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/redwlwmushroom">@redwlwmushroom</a> for more fic threads and just general fandom/klance content!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Day 7: Blanket (and Meal)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>a 5+1 fic of Lance bonding with Team Voltron over family (part two of two)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(aaaaand here's that +1 I was talking about, lol) (also I miss Nick and Schmidt from New Girl so if you get the ref you get a cookie :P)</p><p>Prompt list can be found at <a href="https://twitter.com/dailylancevld/status/1358851501607669760">@dailylancevld</a> on Twitter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <ol>
<li><span>Keith - Lance</span></li>
</ol><p>
  <span>Lance had stopped by the training room, the infirmary, two of the royal libraries, and even checked the paladin’s bedroom to find them all empty. Of course Keith would be the one to keep him up with worry, shortening his already short beauty sleep. Having not seen him all day, and missing him at dinner since the red paladin hadn’t shown up, Lance had grown slightly anxious going so long without the sight of his fellow teammate. He huffed, doubling back to check other common spaces</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blue paladin, in his grumbling, almost missed the familiar dark head of hair sitting on the floor of one of the star projection rooms. But, as he’d said before, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’d recognize that mullet anywhere.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Figures you’d be here,” Lance muttered, making his way to where the other boy was curled up, blanket around his shoulders, gaze on the artificial cosmos around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Took you long enough,” Keith muttered, lifting one of his arms, offering Lance haven under his quilt. Lance was embarrassed to be called out on his habit of spying—</span>
  <em>
    <span>for their own good!</span>
  </em>
  <span>—on the team before bed, but leave it to Keith to be observative now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” the blue paladin huffed, ducking under it, pulling the corner around himself so the heat didn’t escape. The two boys were pressed shoulder to shoulder, close enough Lance caught wisps of Keith’s freshly washed hair, which smelled oddly familiar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you steal my conditioner?” the taller boy exclaimed, leaning in to properly sniff the shorter boy’s hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Keith’s credit, he didn’t even flinch, only elbowed Lance lightly. “Stop that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You so did!” Lance exclaimed, reaching out to touch the other boy’s locks. They were silky smooth, fluffy from air drying, and smelled just like Lance’s after wash day. “Oh my god, Keith! You used my conditioner from Peronzine! That stuff costs a fortune!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The red paladin scoffed, leaning away from the other’s touch. “It’s just conditioner, Lance.” Keith yelped at Lance’s suddenly rough touch, trying to shove the brunette away when he began honest-to-god tugging on Keith’s hair. “Oh my god, Lance! What the fuck are you doing—</span>
  <em>
    <span>let go!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m taking back my product, you fiend!” Lance retorted, rubbing the strands between his hands. “I’m squeezing it out of your greasy mullet because you don’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>appreciate</span>
  </em>
  <span> the fine luxuries of proper hygiene!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so weird,” he wheezed, part annoyed and part amused. “Just—will you stop if I promise to appreciate your weird alien beauty products?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance scoffed, but leaned out of the other boy’s space. “I doubt you even know what to do with half the things I own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith shrugged, finally turning his midnight eyes to look at Lance head on. “Probably not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you even use my stuff, anyway?” Lance asked, squinting. “Nothing can fix your ratchet haircut and horrible skin, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few years ago, maybe even a few months ago, a line like that would’ve ended with an explosive fight and scathing silence for a few days until both boys simmered down enough to move past their ego clash. Now, Keith just rolls his eyes and knocks his shoulder into Lance’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you can look pretty enough for the both of us, cargo pilot,” he teased, the faintest hint of a smirk pulling at his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Lance didn’t know what to do with that. Because he wasn’t stupid—he knew he’s had a massive crush on his stupid rival, and was finally willing to admit it to himself, after having woken up from more than one dream of fraying fingerless gloves and windswept dark hair—but he also knew his crush-addled brain was prone to interpret any and everything as reciprocation. It was part of the reason he got his heart broken so many times. But there was nowhere to hide on a castleship with a crew of only seven. So he couldn’t afford to screw things up—screw Voltron, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>defender of the fucking universe</span>
  </em>
  <span>—by thinking with his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But how was he supposed to think with his heart when Keith unknowingly flirts back against Lance’s taunts that are thinly-veiled expressions of his adoration for the other boy?!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M’not a cargo pilot anymore,” Lance mumbled, refusing to acknowledge the other part of Keith’s sentence. “Also where were you at dinner?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith shot him a look at the non-sequitur, but allowed the subject to change willingly. “Taking a shower. Had some thinking to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance snorted, rolling his eyes. “So you skip dinner to steal my hair products and brood. Lovely.” The brunette dug his hands into his pockets and fished out the juice pouches and energy bars. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” he muttered, tossing way too many into Keith’s lap. “Don’t go to bed on an empty stomach.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You...” Keith paused, looking up with a frown. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance shrugged, ignoring the spasms in his chest. “Knew you’d be hungry. You can’t train all day and have a metabolism like yours and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> be hungry after skipping dinner, dude.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith hummed, dropping the subject. He unwrapped a bar, chewing in silence, giving Lance a break to get a hold of the unsteady beating of his heart. Lance sipped noisily on his own juice pouch, but Keith didn’t snap at him like he used to. They sat in non-silence, stars they couldn’t even begin to name swirling around them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What were you thinking about?” Lance asked once Keith finished his second bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith looked at him, and was it just Lance or did the atmosphere shift? Suddenly it wasn’t an easy night between friends, but the calm before a storm. A storm that swirled in oblivion eyes, a color that only fit in the heart of the cosmos.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a secret,” Keith finally answered, brows furrowed. “A secret I was trying to figure out if I wanted to share or not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Lance breathed. The familiar weight of his own little secret fluttered in his chest, as if being called by the object of his affections. Lance was screwed, wasn’t he?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhhm,” Keith hummed, eyes fixed on Lance’s. “Long showers usually help me make tough decisions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the stealing of your teammate’s beauty products? That help too?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith smiled at that, gaze just as piercing but now under a film of softness. “You help, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And how could Lance </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> blush at a line like that?! “Uh,” Lance stuttered, eyes darting around. “Cool. Glad to be of service, buddy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” the other boy whispered, looking away. They sat in silence again, though it felt like a livewire waiting for someone to give in and flip the switch. A short circuit waiting to blow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you,” Keith started, shaking his head. “I mean—have you ever...how did you know you liked Allura?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance frowned at that, not used to Keith dropping non-sequiturs. “Uh, she’s a beautiful space-princess. What </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> there to like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith shot him a flat look, grumbling. “Fair. But, what made you </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> like her? After you got over the fact that she was waaaaay out of your league,” the dark-haired boy teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance scoffed, but turned to meet Keith’s curious gaze with an uncommonly sincere one. “To tell you the truth, I don’t think I ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> liked her. I mean, not like that. So once the allure of a badass, pretty girl in space faded...there wasn’t much there to justify a crush.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith hummed, looking away quickly. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, something Lance had </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> seen him do. Interesting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you don’t…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance snorted. “God, no! Like, literally no offense to Allura because she’s, like, such a wonderful person. But yeah, no, Lancey-Lance has definitely moved on from that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Keith murmured, nodding. “Cool, then. Good for y’all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance chuckled, poking the other boy in the side for the random slipup. Keith glared at him, and they were back to their usual teasing selves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, but,” Keith said, turning to face Lance completely, unconsciously dragging them closer by the blanket twisting around their shoulders, “you liked her before, right? How’d you—I don’t know—get the courage to tell her how you felt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance blinked at the other boy, trying to keep his heart from shattering at the dots he was connecting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oooh~! Keithy-boy’s got a crush?” Lance sang, plastering the cheekiest grin he could manage even though his heart was spasming again (for much sadder, soon-to-be-fixed-with-space-icecream reasons).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Keith muttered, honest-to-god blushing full red. “I just…” He trailed off, and Lance got the sense that the red paladin’s reticence with emotional vulnerability was making another appearance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Lance said, turning the attention back to himself. “I don’t know if you’ve met me, but I have little to no shame. So it wasn’t hard for me to profess my undying love for a beautiful space princess after she literally fell right into my arms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right,” Keith snorted. “I forgot you’re not like other people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hell yeah I’m not! I’m special!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Special, sure. Let’s go with that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance rolled his eyes, poking Keith on the nose in retaliation. “Shut up. I just don't have a filter for matters of love. Even back on Earth, s’why I got rejected so often.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith pursed his lips, that characteristic furrow appearing between his brows—the one that always served as a precursor to the red paladin’s next impulsive decision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you didn’t ask the right people,” he finally said, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Back on Earth...and out here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance froze, refusing to dare believe what his heart was forcing him to. “Oh yeah? And who am I supposed to ask out when we spend less than a day on some planets and never see them again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith shrugged, a practiced nonchalance to his action. “Someone who’s by your side. Like, in general, but also, like, right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance couldn’t believe him. He couldn’t believe the words coming out of Keith’s mouth. He had the urge to go check himself out in a mirror, in case he’d somehow spontaneously grown a magically space-mullet in the last few minutes and it was making him hear things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, like, you,” Lance surmised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Keith agreed, face blank. “If you want, that is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this some weird ploy to one-up me by rejecting my massive crush on you, mullet?” Lance retorted, anxiety bubbling up in his chest. “Because this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>cruel</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and I can’t assure you I’ll forgive you for this—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Keith exclaimed, hands shooting to Lance’s biceps. “No, never. Of course not, Lance. I—I’d never hurt you like that, what the fuck?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know!” Lance shouted. “I didn’t think you’d—I don’t know, like me back or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I do!” Keith retorted, frowning. “I’ve liked you for a while, now, dumbass! What’s not to like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance flushed at that, mouth open but no words coming out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How dare this emotionally repressed boy be better at romance than </span>
  </em>
  <span>him</span>
  <em>
    <span>?!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told myself that if you found me here tonight, I’d tell you the truth,” Keith admitted. “That was the, uh, thing I was thinking about. In the shower during dinner, that is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance unfroze, letting his heart finally well up with all that emotion he’d spent months tamping down. “Oh,” he whispered. “That...makes sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took the other boy’s hands, removed the crimes to fashion he called fingerless gloves, and intertwined their fingers together. “First rule of being Lance McClain’s boyfriend,” he started, looking up to hold Keith’s startled gaze. “Hand holding without those fucking gloves is a must, and needs to be done at least once a day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith nodded, swallowing thickly. “Can do, sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rule number two,” Lance continued, squeezing the other boy’s equally sweaty palms. “No more stealing my beauty products. If caught, the guilty party must reimburse with something of equivalent value.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, like what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance smirked, leaning in. Keith squeaked—which he will definitely deny later, but Lance knows—when their lips touched, but got with the program quick. Lance couldn’t believe this was actually real life, that he was kissing </span>
  <em>
    <span>Keith Kogane</span>
  </em>
  <span>. If he kept a diary, this moment would definitely get a whole spread.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance pulled back after a while, catching the split moment before Keith opened his eyes, memorizing the way he looked kissing Lance. That look would get it’s own novel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh, something like that,” Lance teased, pecking the bridge of Keith’s nose, colored a bright red under his attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noted,” he answered, voice breathy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And finally rule number three,” Lance announced, eyes bright. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rule three,” Keith prompted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance’s gaze flitted between his eyes, cataloguing the new intensity that churned in their depths. He’d never get tired of staring at this boy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As soon as we get home, you have to meet my mama,” Lance whispered, fingers holding Keith’s tight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that Keith smiled, leaning in to steal a kiss of his own. “It’d be an honor,” he murmured against his lips, faces pulled apart just enough to speak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Lance chuckled, the nerves leaving his system. “Now that we’ve come to an agreement, I think we can go back to making out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both of them were late to Allura’s not-so-surprise training session the next morning.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! Kudos and comment to feed me some serotonin, and check out my twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/redwlwmushroom">@redwlwmushroom</a> for more fic threads and just general fandom/klance content!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Day 8: Cryptids (Fresno Night Crawler)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Keith the Fresno Nightcrawler meets his first human.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Orion (<a href="https://twitter.com/orion_allison">@orion_allison</a>) this one's for you bestie &lt;3</p><p>Prompt list can be found at <a href="https://twitter.com/dailylancevld/status/1358851501607669760">@dailylancevld</a> on Twitter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>This is the story of how Keith met his first ever friend, who happened to be a human.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keith had only been on Earth for a few years now, but he was a hundred percent certain he was enamored with humans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother had warned him their time on the planet would be temporary, only as long as it took to fix up their ship, but the young half-galra had transformed from a child to a young adult in their span of time here, and the ship looked nowhere close to being done. They were lucky Keith’s mother was able to shapeshift much better than Keith—likely attributed to being mixed with whatever species his father was—and could handle getting them food and necessities.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that also meant Keith has been stuck at home, only his mother for company, for literally a decade. So it wasn’t Keith’s fault he sometimes spied on the humans on the beach at night, because what else was he supposed to do? It wasn’t like he ever interacted with them. He just tugged on his little white costume, pocketed his little notebook and pencil, and sat down in his rocky cove, allowing the humans who thought they were alone to believe they weren’t being spied on a curious alien.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that’s how Keith developed a little obsession with a certain brown-haired blue-eyed surfer. He was tall, much taller than Keith, and seemed to always wear a tight black suit. He brought along a board of some sort, which Keith learned early on was meant for riding the water, and always came alone, at night. He brought with him a torch that hung from a thin rope around his neck. It didn’t seem to extinguish when touched by the water, though Keith hadn’t had an opportunity to get a closer look. Despite the half-galra’s superb night vision, the distance and the fact that he had to see through holes cut out of a retrofitted blanket sheet—his idea of a disguise to hide his less-than-human physique—didn’t allow for him to really observe the human properly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he knew was that he liked to ride the waves alone at night, and was every picture of serene beauty Keith could fathom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith was perched in his cove observing him again that night, the bright light of the full moon allowing for the human to glimmer ethereally when he resurfaced from the waves. He’d cruised on the large waves a little earlier, but now he was sat upon his board staring out across the waves. He was quite a ways away from the shoreline, looking back on the assumedly empty beach. Keith used to be afraid of being seen, but then he realized how shitty human eyesight was in the daylight, and consequently how even shittier it was at night. So he wasn’t too worried about being spotted in his little hideaway, even though it looked like the human was staring straight at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mini stare-off was broken by the human suddenly slipping off his board, the water swallowing him all at once. Keith froze, waiting for him to come up—he knew most humans couldn’t hold their breath for very long—and panicking when he didn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The alien rushed to the coastline, eyeing the solitary surfboard floating on the surface of the water. There was no sight of the blue-eyed human. Keith huffed, eyeing the waves. He was not a fan of the water, not a fan of the way his large ears got infections whenever he waded in something bigger than a bathtub. But the human wasn’t surfacing, and Keith had formed an odd attachment to him that made his brain go hazy with the need to save him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The half-galra was about to shed his disguise and jump head first into the water, when a wet, slippery body tackled him to the sand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gotcha!” a voice said, body wrestling him down and hands pinning his wrists to his sides. “It’s you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s pulse was racing, only now it was for his own safety. A familiar head of messy brown hair—spiked this way and that from still being wet—and bright blue eyes appeared above him, visible through the one eye hole he could still see through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was his human. It was his human, looking </span>
  <em>
    <span>right at him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” Keith panicked, trying to get free. “I do not know what you are talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the guy dressed up like a sheet ghost that everyone’s been calling the Fresno Nightcrawler,” the human accused, face twisted in an emotion. “Oh, man! I’ve read, like, your </span>
  <em>
    <span>entire</span>
  </em>
  <span> wiki. A cryptid, in my own backyard!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s a Fresno?” Keith asked, curiosity overpowering his current fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haha, dude,” the human retorted, contorting his eyeballs to move in a circular fashion. “Very funny. Cut the act, I caught you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do not know what you are referring to,” Keith tried again, wiggling under his grip. “I am just a human, like yourself, enjoying the, uh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>beesh</span>
  </em>
  <span> at night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The human frowned, squinting at Keith. Before Keith could register what was happening, one of his hands were released and the human was tugging the white cloth over his head, exposing the half-galra’s true form.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue eyes roamed over mauve skin, the furry ears twitching on Keith’s head, stopping finally at his yellow sclera, now glowing bright around his contracted pupils. This was the first time Keith has ever been seen by someone who wasn’t his mother—seen by a </span>
  <em>
    <span>human</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah,” the human breathed, jaw dropped slightly to match his rounded eyes. “You’re…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please get off of me,” Keith choked, pushing at the human’s chest. He knew humans came in a variety of shapes and sizes, but his was a little over a head taller than him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S-sure, bro,” the human stuttered, climbing off him, dragging the cloth completely off Keith. He was completely exposed now in his human shorts and t-shirt, a little cold from the ocean water lapping at them where they lay along the coastline.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I have my sheet back, please?” Keith whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The human frowned. “Um, why?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not…” Keith gestured to his alien physique. “I do not look very human.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So?” the human questioned. “I kinda already see you, so what’s the point?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if someone else sees me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The beach is empty,” the human assured. “I only come out on nights I know nobody else is there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith blushed at that, realizing the beach was definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> empty all those nights he spied on the human. “About that—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Empty except for you, I mean,” he corrected, chuckling. “Kinda caught onto your presence about a few months ago, buddy. Just thought you were a regular creep, not an actual cryptid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alien,” Keith corrected. “And I, um, apologize if I made you uncomfortable. I am just fascinated by humans and have not had the chance to see them, much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” the human uttered, nodding in understanding. “That...makes sense, actually. Have you </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> met one, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith shook his head, fiddling with the corner of his notebook, which he’s glad didn’t fall into the water. “You are the first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The human blinked, and then bore his teeth. “Sweet!” he exclaimed, cheeks pulling up. “I’m Lance, nice to meet you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stuck out a hand, and Keith remembered what he learned from the humans he’d seen before. Reaching out with his own hand—which luckily matched with its five fingers, though its overall size was slightly smaller than the human’s—Keith let his fingers intertwine between Lance’s. He squeezed once, wondering if he was doing it right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” Lance stuttered, eyes widening at their clasped hands. “That works too, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I doing it wrong?” Keith asked, worried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-no!” Lance reassured, eyes snapping back to his. “No, this is perfect. Good job, bro. Now all you gotta do is give me a name, and we’ll officially be friends!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith frowned. “Any name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, your name would be best,” Lance said, and Keith thinks he could understand that he was being teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pouting, the alien offered a flat, “Keith.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance smiled, giggling. “Keith? That’s such a </span>
  <em>
    <span>human</span>
  </em>
  <span> name, though!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My mother wanted me to have one, just in case I needed to answer the phone when she was away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, gotcha,” Lance nodded. “Well, Keith, nice to officially meet you. Glad the Fresno Nightcrawler isn’t as scary as the wikis made him out to be, lol.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith frowned. “Fresno what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And that is the story of how Keith made his first friend, and Lance met his first alien.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! Kudos and comment to feed me some serotonin, and check out my twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/redwlwmushroom">@redwlwmushroom</a> for more fic threads and just general fandom/klance content!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Day 9: Witch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lance, the infamously powerful witch known as Azul, finally meets his match in the form of a peculiar witch-hunter.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay so I lost a bet against Buns/Blue (<a href="https://twitter.com/Azuliring">@Azuliring</a>) and owed them a twitter thread of their choosing (and they chose witch/witch-hunter klance), but I'm hoping this lil scene more than suffices lol. I WILL WIN NEXT TIME BESTIE, MARK MY WORDS!</p><p> </p><p>Prompt list can be found at <a href="https://twitter.com/dailylancevld/status/1358851501607669760">@dailylancevld</a> on Twitter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Lance knew he was being watched, but he kept at his task of harvesting the wild daffodil fluff from the field. The treeline was still, but the witch knew better. It was all a ploy, to lull him into a false sense of security.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The witch hunter had been on his trail for a month, skirting the edges of Lance periphery, igniting just enough paranoia to disrupt his regular calm. This wasn’t the first one to come after him, but each time they got bolder than the last. He was curious to see what this one would try, seeing as subtlety wasn’t a common trait amongst those brutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance was almost done with scavenging the daffodil fluff, full pouch carefully tucked away onto his belt, when he heard a soft rustle. To anyone lesser, it could be mistaken for the breeze whistling through the stalks of tall grass. To Lance, it was his only warning to </span>
  <em>
    <span>duck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The witch ducked into a roll, turning as he got up and pulling his staff from where it was strapped across his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice try, amateur,” he taunted, eyeing the poison-tipped dagger sticking out of the ground where he stood. “You spent a month planning that attack?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but it would’ve made this a lot easier,” a voice rasped behind his ear. Lance twisted, catching the hunter’s sword with his staff. Despite its looks, the wooden branch was enchanted to withstand much more than it should have, making a formidable weapon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance finally caught a glimpse of the witch hunter. Thick, dark brows hung heavy over even darker eyes, matching the intense look on the man’s face. His nose was crooked, as if it never healed right, and a scar ran across a cheek down his neck, marring otherwise porcelain pristine skin. His dark-as-night hair hung loose, longer than Lance’s but shorter than shoulder-length, just barely brushing past his chin. He looked every bit as wild as Lance imagined a witch hunter to be, though far scrawnier than the regular brutes the academy sends after the wily witch. This was going to be fun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cute,” Lance sneered, shoving him off and stepping back. “But you’re not the first to try me, hunter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> be the last,” the man snarled, lunging. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two were annoyingly evenly matched, the hunter’s agility and laced weaponry counteracting the witch’s quick incantations and spells. For every whispered curse, Lance was dodging a laced blade, and for every aggressive blow dealt by the hunter, nature seemed to trip him up enough to allow the witch breathing room. Lance was loathed to admit he might have met his match.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hit after hit, both tiring as the fight droned on, until the two were crouched across from each other, panting heavily, eyes fixed on the other’s weary movements.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You done yet, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mullet</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Lance wheezed, lips fighting to smirk. It was harder to breath deep that way, but Lance had an image to maintain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should be asking you that, </span>
  <em>
    <span>witch</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” the other spat, the derision dripping off his lips. “Didn’t expect one of your kind to last that long without calling upon the dark arts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance scoffed, rolling to sit up. “The dark arts don’t respond to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> spellcaster, you oaf. I doubt you’ve met another magick-user who’s had experience with shadow divinity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You aren’t recusing yourself from the crime,” he noted, tone part intrigue and part hatred. “Do you take pride in the putrid act?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance glared, summoning a bout of strength to cast a nonverbal spell, snickering when the other began violently sneezing. “Not that I have to justify myself to a </span>
  <em>
    <span>witch-hunter</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but your lot knows nothing about our culture, much less the intricacies of dark magick. The world isn’t as black and white as much as you want to paint it that way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The witch-hunter didn’t respond, though the intense glare poked Lance less. It was almost a shame he had to kill the man; he seemed like he could be enticed to learn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But neither man had the chance to recontinue what they’d started, a third player entering their scene.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>First it was the sound of thumping paws against rich dirt, and then it was the low snarls that caught their attention. Both men—who had been fixated on each other—whipped around to face the treeline, scrambling to stand when they caught sight of the feral beast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A changeling,” Lance announced, just in case the hunter was unaware. “Looks to be in beast form, taken to some kind of bear-wolf hybrid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hunter, who ended up slightly behind the witch, exhaled shakily, forcing Lance to shoot him a glance. His dark eyes were wide, the look in them matching the feral beast’s ferocity, looking all the part of a caged animal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance frowned, turning so he could keep an eye on both. “Mullet. Now is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That snapped the witch-hunter out of whatever reverie he was in, nodding once at the witch before they tag-teamed the beast. Lance was originally worried this was part of the hunter’s ploy, and that he’d soon find himself with a knife in his back or teeth in his neck, but the worry was unfounded. Together, making a much better team than either could have imagined, the witch and the hunter defeated the changeling within minutes, coming out relatively unscathed. Lance muttered an incantation over the dead body, sprinkling it with fresh dirt to seal the death oath. He then turned, to finish off with the hunter as well, when he noticed the other man kneeling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turns out only </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> of them came out relatively unscathed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” the hunter muttered, clutching his shoulder and swaying despite already being on his knees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re hurt,” Lance pointed out, rather bluntly. “But it’s only a scratch. You shouldn’t be so affected…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The witch reached out a hand, only to pull it back when the man reared his head up to snarl. The hunter’s eyes were glowing yellow, slitted like a feline’s. The scar on his cheek had turned a dark shade of purple, almost matching his natural irises. Canine teeth protruded from his lips, completing the animalistic look. As soon as it appeared, though, the hunter groaned, reverting back to his normal, human appearance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...unless you’re a changeling too,” the witch finished, realizing. “In which case, a bite from another is a fatal wound. Which means you’re about to die.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for your infinite wisdom, witch,” the hunter snarled, humanly. He fell even further, collapsing on his side. The spasms were about to kick in. “You win again, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Azul</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Grant me the mercy of a lonely death. I deserve that much, at least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s when Lance snapped out of it. “Oh no. No, no, no, no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m not letting you die here, hunter. It’s bad enough one changeling body will be absorbed by the earth, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>two</span>
  </em>
  <span> would completely throw off the pH of my field, and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>refuse </span>
  </em>
  <span>to spend another week cleansing the aura for my crops!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hunter eyed him warily as the witch stalked forward, yelping as Lance picked him up and tossed him over his back like a sack of potatoes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my gods, put me down!” the hunter hissed, weakly hitting at Lance’s back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not until the treeline, at least,” the witch argued, tightening his hold. “Be lucky I’m taking pity on you and saving your life, mullet. Especially after you tried to </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill</span>
  </em>
  <span> me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally</span>
  </em>
  <span> a witch-hunter? You think we hunt y’all down to give you flowers and chocolates?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got a lotta nerve disguising yourself as human just to kill a few witches, </span>
  <em>
    <span>changeling</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” The hunter flinched, and Lance made note of the touchy subject. “Why even become a hunter when you know they would just as quickly turn on you, if they knew the truth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hunter paused, and Lance half-worried it was because he died. “It’s complicated,” was what he finally settled on, making Lance roll his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Lance huffed, spotting his little cottage just a few trees away, “your wound’s gonna take a while to heal, and I’m not letting you out of my sight until I know your intentions, catboy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t call me that,” the other darkly muttered. “M’not a cat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be the judge of that,” the witch retorted, waving a finger to have the door open on it’s own. “I’m gonna put you under for a little so you don’t pass out from the pain. But once you’re back to normal, we’re having a little chat, mullet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance muttered the sleep incantation, stepping across the threshold of his humble abode. He put the hunter down on his cot, taking a totally necessary moment to push his thick man back from his unfairly pretty face, watching his eyes flutter as the spell did it’s work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” the witch-hunter murmured, struggling to stay lucid. “Whazzur name…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance paused, before offering a soft, “Lance. And you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The witch-hunter’s eyes fluttered shut, the smallest and most endearing of smiles stretched across his chapped lips. “Keith,” was all he managed, before he conked out on Lance’s pillow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance chuckled, eyeing the sleeping man for one more moment, before rushing to start on the salve and countercurse. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This witch-hunter better be worth it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! Kudos and comment to feed me some serotonin, and check out my twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/redwlwmushroom">@redwlwmushroom</a> for more fic threads and just general fandom/klance content!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Day 10: Influencer (YouTuber - Unofficial Sequel)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A sort-of sequel to my YouTube AU, "<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25644568">Like, Comment, &amp; Subscribe</a>", in which Lance decides to do an impromptu live with his grumpy boyfriend (can be read alone, though).</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>FORGET HOW LATE AND UNBETAD ALL OF THESE ARE AGH I WILL CATCH UP BEFORE MARCH ENDS PLS</p><p>Prompt list can be found at <a href="https://twitter.com/dailylancevld/status/1358851501607669760">@dailylancevld</a> on Twitter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Heyyo, gentle-viewers! It’s ya boy, back at it again, coming to you live from Keith’s kitchen!” Lance exclaimed, adopting his louder-than-usual online persona and waving excitedly at his phone camera. “So thankful to everyone who’s able to join us live-streaming our lazy Sunday afternoon. We are </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> bored, apparently.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, you mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> bored,” a voice corrected from behind the screen. Lance pouted playfully at them, switching so his back camera was now on. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>was perfectly happy to spend the day reading, or watching Netflix, or even just taking a nap. But nooooooo—Mr. YouTube over here is an attention-seeking whore, apparently, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> have to suffer because of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re live, babe,” Lance chuckled, laughing even harder as Keith—who was absently scrolling through his phone while sitting on the cluttered kitchen countertop—scrambled to escape the frame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lance!” he whined, half-panicked at getting caught calling his boyfriend an ‘attention-seeking whore’ and half-exasperated because this was definitely not the first time he was subjected to Lance’s shenanigans. “You fucking asshole!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe,” Lance laughed, chasing him around his apartment, phone in hand, “we’ve talked about this! No cursing in front of the kids!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not my fault your target audience is 13 year olds! They’ve probably heard worse, too,” Keith retorted, grabbing a red throw pillow to hide behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still!” Lance exclaimed, finally stopping and focusing on his boyfriend on the couch, who was curled into a ball facing away from Lance. “C’mon, we got a live to do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s voice was muffled by the pillow and the couch by the time the phone’s mic picked it up, but Lance laughed at whatever he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I definitely mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Lance countered, petting his boyfriend’s hair. “You can’t see it but the comments right now are the fans just spamming your name and asking to see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, tell them I’m not home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are unfortunately on screen right now, babe. Cowering behind a throw-pillow the size of your tiny fist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith groaned, making a big deal of getting up, pouting at both Lance behind the screen and the camera on his phone. “I’m only doing this so y’all keep the checks coming,” he said flatly, pointing at the camera.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keith!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If my boyfriend’s commandeering my lazy Sunday afternoon, I get to be petty,” he replied, heading back to the kitchen. Lance switched cameras, showing the viewers his exasperatedly fond look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keith Kogane, ladies and gentlemen,” he announced sarcastically, looking at his boyfriend off screen. “Cameraman by trade, professional charmer by choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charmed you, didn’t I?” he called out, smirking from over the island.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance rolled his eyes, making his way to the kitchen to join him. His phone tripod was already set up, pointed to the cluttered island, on the other side of which Keith stood boredly. Lance joined him, pecking his little pout once for posterity, before turning back to the screen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, pals!” the brunette exclaimed, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Time to reveal the plan for today’s live.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, please,” Keith intoned, laying on the sarcasm thick. “Between all the ingredients and blenders laid out before us, we’re desperately still stuck in the dark.” The shorter boy yelped when Lance tugged on his hair, shooting him a glare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hush,” Lance said sweetly, kissing his cheek to make up for the violence. “Stop being mean to the viewers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The viewers aren’t who I’m being mean to,” Keith muttered grumpily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rude!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The live, Lance,” Keith reminded, shooting his boyfriend a fond look of exasperation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the reminder, the blue-eyed boy turned back to the camera. “Oh, yeah! Anyways, long story short, Keith has a secret Starbucks obsession—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hey!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—and since I work at a coffee-shop as my day-job,” Lance continued, slinging an arm around Keith’s shoulders, “I thought I’d teach my boyfriend how to make some of his favorite drinks at home, so he wouldn’t blow thousands of dollars a year on overpriced bean-water!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith stiffened at the mention of him making drinks. “Wait, you never said </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> had to do anything!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance scoffed, smirking at the boy. “You didn’t think I was being serious when I said I need you to ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>stand there and look pretty</span>
  </em>
  <span>’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I kinda did, to be honest,” Keith admitted sheepishly, wincing at his boyfriend. “But, to be fair, you’ve said shit like that and completely meant it! How am I supposed to know when you’re kidding?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance chuckled, shaking his head. “It’ll be fine, mullet. We got this, babe! We’re a great team, and by the end of it you’ll have enough diabetes-coffee to last you an entire week!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think milk-coffee can stay in the fridge that long once made.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...We can freeze it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith sighed, shaking his head. “I’ll tell Pidge to take the leftovers and give the rest to Shiro and Matt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance beamed, giving his boyfriend another quick kiss. “Smart. So we got a plan!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No thanks to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey—!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get started,” Keith cut him off, grabbing the carton of milk. “For the viewers at home, what milk sub are we using today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith waited, turning to his boyfriend once he realized the pause was way too prolonged to be meditated. Lance was staring back at him, wide-eyed, a little horrified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You forgot to get lactose-free milk, didn’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance ended their live way too early, promising to return after a quick run to the grocery store, the sound of Keith’s boisterous laughter cutting in and out as Lance ran to his car.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! Kudos and comment to feed me some serotonin, and check out my twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/redwlwmushroom">@redwlwmushroom</a> for more fic threads and just general fandom/klance content!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Day 11: Cowboys</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I really just wanted to write a chat fic lol</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Prompt list can be found at <a href="https://twitter.com/dailylancevld/status/1358851501607669760">@dailylancevld</a> on Twitter!</p><p> </p><p>sharpshooter = Lance<br/>samurai = Keith<br/>sweetslinger = Hunk<br/>nacho.damsel = Allura (nacho.damsel.in.distress would've been too long but that's where this comes from lol in case you were wondering)<br/>b.bandit = Pidge (heh like blind bandit cause they're Toph kinnie lol)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>sharpshooter:</b> hey y’all rootin tootin cowboys </p><p><b>b.bandit</b> has kicked <b> <em>sharpshooter</em> </b> out of the chat</p><p><b>sweetslinger</b> has added <b> <em>sharpshooter</em> </b> to the chat </p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> R👀D!!!! </p><p><b>samurai</b> has kicked <b> <em>sharpshooter</em> </b> out of the chat</p><p><b>sweetslinger:</b> Buddy, I can't help you anymore…😔</p><p><b>nacho.damsel:</b> gays…</p><p><b>nacho.damsel:</b> please…</p><p><b>nacho.damsel</b> has added <b> <em>sharpshooter</em> </b> to the chat</p><p><b>nacho.damsel:</b> now lance, behave 🔫👀</p><p><b>sharpshooter: </b>THEY STARTED IT🥺🥺😔😭</p><p><b>b.bandit: </b>litrally just scroll up wtf 🥴</p><p><b>sweetslinger: </b>Not to interrupt or anything</p><p><b>sweetslinger: </b>But who changed all the names????</p><p><b>samurai:</b> gee i wonder who 😒</p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> KIETH?!</p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> WSA THAT AN EMJOI?!</p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> 🎉🎉🥳🎉🥳🎊👯♀️🍾🍾👯♂️🥴😩😩😩</p><p><b>samurai:</b> jesus christ im taking back that aemoji</p><p><b>samurai: </b>emoji*</p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> NEVER I REFUE</p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> and also yes 😌✌🏽</p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> twas i who chnged the dn</p><p><b>sweetslinger:</b> I mean I’m not complaining</p><p><b>sweetslinger:</b> But why???</p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> HNUK!</p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> CHCEK THE TIEM BESTIE!</p><p><b>b.bandit: </b>oh yeaaaahhhhhhhhh</p><p><b>nacho.damsel: </b>it’s 12 oh 4??</p><p><b>samurai: </b>i hate you </p><p><b>sweetslinger:</b> OMG KEITH</p><p><b>sweetslinger:</b> KEITH</p><p><b>sweetslinger:</b> KEITH</p><p><b>sweetslinger:</b> KEITH</p><p><b>sweetslinger:</b> KEITH KEITH</p><p><b>sweetslinger:</b> KEITH MY DUDE HAPPY FREAKING BIRTHDAY 🥳🍾👯♀️🎉🎊😩</p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> EYYYYY GET IN ON IT YALL</p><p><b>sharpshooter: </b>HAPPY BRTHDY MULLT 🥳🍾🥳🍾🥳🍾</p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> MULLET**</p><p><b>b.bandit:</b> lol happy birthday at a normal volume, keith 💚</p><p><b>nacho.damsel:</b> HAPPY BIRTHDAY KEITH! 🎉🎂</p><p><b>samurai:</b> guys chill omg</p><p><b>samurai:</b> (but thank you 🥺❤️)</p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> AGH I STILL CNT GET OVRE THE EMJOIS</p><p><b>sharpshooter: </b>EMOJIS****</p><p><b>b.bandit:</b> there are many other words you misspelt in there, pal</p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> CAN’T* OVER*</p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> there????? sAtIsFiEd?!?!?!?!?!🤪🥴🦨</p><p><b>samurai:</b> this is why im home of phobic🧎</p><p><b>sweetslinger:</b> dkfjghkjfdhgkdfj</p><p><b>nacho.damsel:</b> keith homophobic homosexual confirmed lol</p><p><b>sharpshooter</b> has kicked <b> <em>samurai</em> </b> out of the chat</p><p><b>nacho.damsel:</b> kdfjhgkjdhgfkjdh MCCLAIN?!</p><p><b>b.bandit: </b>AND ON THE MANS BDAY TOO 😩✌🏻</p><p><b>sweetslinger:</b> BRO NOOOOOOOOO</p><p><b>sharpshooter: </b>ughhhhh fineeeeee</p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> get ur panties out of a twist gayss</p><p><b>sharpshooter</b> has added <b> <em>samurai</em> </b> to the chat</p><p><b>b.bandit:</b> petition for lance to never say panties ever again</p><p><b>b.bandit:</b> all in favour say aye</p><p><b>sweetslinger: </b>aye!</p><p><b>nacho.damsel:</b> i!</p><p><b>samurai:</b> 👀</p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> STOP</p><p><b>b.bandit: </b>the council has spoken!</p><p><b>b.bandit:</b> four ayes, unanimous</p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> 🥸 dfkjghkdfjhgkdfjh</p><p><b>b.bandit:</b> lance you are hereby banned from ever saying p*nties ever again</p><p><b>nacho.damsel:</b> permission to extend the ban to writing as well?</p><p><b>sharpshooter: </b>ALLURA KJFDHKFJGHFKD</p><p><b>b.bandit:</b> permission granted</p><p><b>samurai:</b> i liked it better when i was kicked out bye 🤡✌️</p><p><b>samurai </b>has left the chat</p><p><b>sharpshooter: </b>KIETH DFOIKGJKFDHGJKFD</p><p><b>b.bandit:</b> KEITHHHHHH</p><p><b>nacho.damsel:</b> omfg kEITH</p><p><b>sweetslinger</b>: 😭😭😭😭 Keith!</p><p><b>nacho.damsel</b> has added <b> <em>samurai</em> </b> to the chat</p><p><b>samurai:</b> allura whyyyyyyyy</p><p><b>nacho.damsel:</b> if we have to suffer, so do you bitch 🔫🤡✌🏿</p><p><b>samurai:</b> 😒 r👀d</p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> HEY THAST MY EMPJI</p><p><b>sharpshooter: </b>EMOKI********</p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> ENOJI***************************</p><p><b>sweetslinger:</b> You need some help, buddy? 🥺</p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> EKOJI******************************************************************</p><p><b>b.bandit:</b> it’s the gayass</p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> E M O J I ************************************************************************************************************************************************************</p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> R👀D!</p><p><b>samurai:</b> well im gonna go to bed then</p><p><b>samurai: </b>thx again for the bday wishes, yall</p><p><b>samurai:</b> i assume ill see yall at some point today? </p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> i mean u cud c me rn if u rolled ovr 🥴👀😩</p><p><b>samurai:</b> nah 😚✌️</p><p><b>b.bandit:</b> and on that note ima bounce too</p><p><b>b.bandit:</b> before these two get any gayer in the groupchat</p><p><b>nacho.damsel:</b> ooh that would be a lovely band name!</p><p><b>sweetslinger:</b> ????</p><p><b>nacho.damsel:</b> “gay in the groupchat”</p><p><b>sharpshooter: </b>kfdjhgkjfdhkjd</p><p><b>b.bandit:</b> dfkjghkfjdhfdjkh ALLURA</p><p><b>samurai:</b> fffssssssssssss</p><p><b>sweetslinger:</b>...</p><p><b>sweetslinger:</b> And that is my cue to bid you all good night.</p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> NIGHT YALL</p><p><b>b.bandit:</b> once again gn squad</p><p><b>nacho.damsel: </b>adieu! see you all tomorrow at the surprise party!</p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> KSJFDHGKJHFDS ALLURA</p><p><b>samurai: </b>its okay babe i already knew</p><p><b>b.bandit:</b> its was lance wasnt it</p><p><b>sweetslinger:</b> Not again, buddy...</p><p><b>samurai:</b> yeah we have our calenders synced and i saw the planning meetings</p><p><b>nacho.damsel:</b> gayasses (but you two are absolutely adorable fdkjghkfdjh)</p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> CRUSE MY ORGINAZAITONAL POWRESS 😩😩🤡😭</p><p><b>samurai:</b> babe…</p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> yeah i need slep lol</p><p><b>sharpshooter:</b> night gays, the hubbys waitin for me 🥺🥴🤪</p><p><b>samurai:</b> gay /derogatory 😒</p><p><b>samurai: </b>(night yall)</p><p><b>nacho.damsel: </b>goodnight!!</p><p><b>sweetslinger:</b> LOL, night everybody!</p><p><b>b.bandit:</b> FOR THE THOUSANDTH TIME GOO DNIGHT!</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! Kudos and comment to feed me some serotonin, and check out my twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/redwlwmushroom">@redwlwmushroom</a> for more fic threads and just general fandom/klance content!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Day 12: Lion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Blue Lion letting her blue boy go.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Prompt list can be found at <a href="https://twitter.com/dailylancevld/status/1358851501607669760">@dailylancevld</a> on Twitter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Blue had the best paladin ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance was witty, whip-smart, and wonderful in her head. Although she had loved Blaytz, there was a certain exhilaration that came from hearing her young paladin whoop with joy after a successful maneuver, or when she unlocked a new power with him at the helm. They were the perfect duo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which made it so much worse what she was about to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Old Blue,” her paladin called, lit blue on the other side of her barrier. “It's me, Lancey Lance! Open up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the blue lion stood stock still, affected the robotic nature that she never truly embraced. Just like her paladin, Blue wasn’t the stoic, unaffected machine many assumed to her be. Although none of them could compete with Red’s easily sparked feistiness, Blue was hardly ever still. Though her body was at rest, she and her paladin spent many moments poking each other’s “brains”, sharing memories or silly thoughts, strengthening their uniquely wonderful bond. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But not anymore. Not for a little while. Blue hated doing this, but she had to let her little one go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, enough goofing around,” Lance pleaded, frown marring his usually at ease expression. “I mean it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knocked on her shield again, letting his forehead press against it in defeat when she didn’t budge. “We gotta get out there and help the others,” he croaked, palms splayed against the forcefield. She felt the telltale signs of anxiety start to slip into his brain, fought against her instinct to reassure and assuage his pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on! Why are you being mad at me?” he shouted angrily, pulling back to glare at his lion in confusion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pinched expression faltered, however, as he turned his watery gaze to meet her empty, yellow eyes. “Wait, do you hate me now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scrambled forward again, resting his hands on her shield, trying to push through the barriers she’d thrown up physically and mentally. “I'm sorry for wanting to fly the Black Lion. It was just a phase!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When that didn’t work—though Blue was loathed to admit she was one sentence away from caving—her plucky paladin changed course, putting on his signature flirtatious smirk, shooting her his signature finger-guns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Blue, you know what? I gotta say, that's a </span>
  <em>
    <span>great</span>
  </em>
  <span> color on you,” Lance called, giving her an obnoxiously cheesy wink. Blue hoped he couldn’t catch onto her amusement. She loved her paladin’s flirtatious charm, was his number one fan, but she couldn’t break now. Not when the universe was at stake, and her blue boy had a different role to fill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Are you from outer space?” Lance tried again. “Because your body is out of this world!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This truly was Blue’s greatest battle yet, feeling her effusive paladin’s insecurities slip into their shared headspace, knowing she couldn’t respond to him when he dejectedly muttered, “Jeez, that's, like, my best line.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lance, what’s wrong?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> the princess called, skidding into their hanger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her paladin didn’t even turn to look at the princess, a first Blue noticed. His sad, blue eyes were fixed on her unglowing yellow ones, attempting to coax some kind of response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't know,” he croaked, voice wet. “Blue is shutting me out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blue paladin huffed, the smile creeping onto his face something deprecative and a shade of blue that Blue never wanted to see. “Maybe Pidge was right. I am just a goofball. Not only am I not meant to be the leader, I guess...I guess now I'm not even meant to be a paladin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue couldn’t take it any longer. Red was nudging her, pressing her to finally grant him permission, and she couldn’t hold it off any longer. As much as she wanted to hold onto her little paladin, he had places to be and heroics to do. He would be just fine, she trusted Red. And, most importantly, she trusted her boy to become the hero she knew he was, even if he doubts it at times. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue felt more than heard Red roar, heard the blue paladin—no longer hers—and the princess converse quietly, saw him give her one last longing look before running out of the hanger. The fight outside was raging on, and she soon heard her paladin whoop with laughter as Red egged him on like the speed-demon he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Allura was still in her hanger, listening in on the comms. Though the lion hadn’t ever had an explicit connection to the princess, the undeniable charge she was feeling right now was uncannily similar. If Red and Black were able to steal paladins, why should Blue settle for anything less than the creator’s daughter, the princess of Altea?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a low rumble that could easily be mistaken for a chuckle, Blue dropped her forcefield.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! Kudos and comment to feed me some serotonin, and check out my twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/redwlwmushroom">@redwlwmushroom</a> for more fic threads and just general fandom/klance content!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Day 13: Seasons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lance McClain, as known and loved by Keith over the course of their first four seasons.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Prompt list can be found at <a href="https://twitter.com/dailylancevld/status/1358851501607669760">@dailylancevld</a> on Twitter!</p><p>[DISCLAIMER: So there's a section in this one that isn't exactly explicit, but does mention and hint at explicit content, so if you'd like to avoid that just skip Spring! I'll put in the endnotes a summary of what happens, but it's not really consequential and can be written off as light angst ('cause it's gotta hurt before he gets good, lol).]</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>~Fall~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith met the love of his life in the Fall, after the drunken stupor that was orientation-week, after he made the mistake of forgetting Lance McClain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you fucking kidding me?” the blue-eyed boy shouted in the middle of the Starbucks, attracting literally everyone else who was unfortunately awake at that early hour to listen in on their argument. “You don’t even remember my face?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, no?” Keith muttered, wishing the brim of his green cap could cover his face like a hazmat mask. “Look, dude, can I just get your coffee order?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grande iced caramel macchiato,” the boy offered, barrelling on. “And are you fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>kidding</span>
  </em>
  <span> me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, no?” Keith murmured, scanning the code on the other boy’s Starbucks app and finishing the transaction. “Your order will be ready, soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bah-bah-bup,” he interjected, smacking a hand onto the countertop. “Not until I get you to remember me. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> you didn’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>forget</span>
  </em>
  <span> the best night of your </span>
  <em>
    <span>life—</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude!” Keith exclaimed, eyes wide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The customer rolled his eyes, waving absently. “Not like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>, though it almost was...No, I meant, like, emotionally and shit. We—we had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>moment</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith returned a nonplussed look, a single dark brow raised in incredulity. “A moment?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy scoffed, smooth, tan face pinching even further. “Uh, yeah?! We, like, made a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>connection</span>
  </em>
  <span>, bro!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Keith sighed. “I must’ve been wasted. I didn’t mean to, uh, hurt you, or whatever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other boy just pouted. “You probably don’t even remember my name, do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith shrugged, albeit awkwardly. “I mean, considering I don’t even remember your face...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s Lance,” the taller boy exclaimed, reaching over the bar and poking Keith in the chest. “Lance </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> McClain. And you better remember it from now on, ‘cause I won’t ever let you forget.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Keith didn’t know it then, but nestled within the steely blue of Lance’s eyes was the threat of a promise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>~Winter~</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t until they were well on their way into winter that Keith realized he and Lance were </span>
  <em>
    <span>Friends</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Not peers, not casual acquaintances, not antagonists who spend way too much time together voluntarily—but </span>
  <em>
    <span>Friends</span>
  </em>
  <span>, with a capital F and all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were camped out in front of their friend Allura’s couch, the only ones awake after finals kicked all their asses and the action movie they’d all decided on being the perfect lullaby. Hunk was curled up on one end of the couch, Allura against the other, Pidge nestled between them snoring loud enough to drown out the explosions on screen. Lance had originally dragged Keith down to the ground with him to build a “super mega awesome blanket fort that nobody else is allowed to share since you guys aren’t even gonna help us set it up”, but then got lazy and forced him to just share a blanket with him and call it a day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Lance was a naturally touchy person—Keith knew that by now—so he didn’t think much of it when the taller boy manhandled him into practically cuddling, slotting himself between Keith’s legs, leaning back against his chest. Keith was so immune he didn’t even resist Lance tugging at his arms, allowing the brunette to wrap them around his lanky frame, even going as far as to pressing his face into the crown of Lance’s head. It was just...normal for them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it felt different, now. Because nobody else was awake to call them out on it, and even Lance was halfway to conking out in Keith’s arms. He should really do the polite thing and poke him awake enough to drag him to one of the air mattresses laid out in Allura’s room. If he let Lance fall asleep like this, sitting up and pressing Keith against the couch, they were both going to wake up sore as fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the mattress was so far away (three feet), and Lance was so warm in his arms, and he knew stirring him right now would wake him up enough that he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep for the rest of the night. And he’d known Lance’s sleep schedule had gone to shit during the last month in preparation for finals (such is the life of a pre-med student), and this was honestly the first time in a while that he saw the crinkle between Lance’s thin, usually-expressive brows disappear completely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Keith did the next best thing and slowly lowered them to the ground, curling one of his arms under Lance’s head as a makeshift pillow. They’d still wake up with sore limbs, but their tailbones would thank them, and Lance’s neck might not kill him completely. And if Keith got to wrap his other arm around the lanky boy, pulling him securely against his chest like one of the many pillows he refused to admit he slept with, well that was just a coincidence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith was soon lulled to sleep, joining the rest of his friends in forgoing post-finals movie night in favor of sleeping longer than four hours. He was almost asleep, when he felt the body pressed against him shift. Lance twisted, turning a complete one-eighty to now face Keith head on. Blue eyes blinked blearily at obsidian ones, the latter fighting to stay open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t know your eyes were purple,” Lance mumbled, face so close Keith’s vision got blurrier the more he tried to focus. “R’pretty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith blinked back in confusion, feeling a unique warmth where their foreheads were now pressed against each other. “Don’ave purple eyes…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Mmm? Then what color’re they?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith reached up with his non-occupied hand and smoothed it out manually. </span>
  <em>
    <span>There, much better,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought at the sight of Lance’s characteristically smooth skin. “Dunno,” Keith answered, too tired to remember.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“F’you dunno, then I’m not wrong,” Lance retorted, smirking. “Yer so dumb, Kogane.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go to sleep, McClance,” Keith muttered, closing his eyes. He felt rather than heard Lance giggle, bodies practically intertwined.</span>
</p><p><span>“Name’s Lance,” Lance chuckled. “</span><em><span>Lance</span></em> <em><span>McClain</span></em><span>. Get’er right, mullet.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other boy hummed, speech slurring like it usually did before he passed out. “If only you’d ask, babe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that shocked Keith back to full lucidity. All sleep wrested from him in one fell swoop, he peered at the other boy, who was breathing lowly and evenly, unaware that he had upended Keith’s entire life with a half-dreamt line. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning, when Lance showed no sign of remembering what he said to his so-called rival, Keith felt the entire ocean of irony drown him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~Spring~</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t his fault that he had found himself in this precarious situation of being Lance’s best friend with benefits, but Keith definitely didn’t take his heart into consideration when his dick said yes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that’s how Keith found himself getting dragged to random frat parties all of spring break by his pretty best friend he was halfway in love with. Lance would leave him for a bit to go socialize, Keith would down a little more alcohol than he was willing to admit, they’d remeet each other at some point during the night—likely both of them subconsciously seeking out a familiar body—and then they’d end up at one or the other’s dorm room based on whose roommate was out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Keith would inevitably wake up way too early, with a hangover hurting his head and his heart, hoping that day would be the day he could muster the strength to tell Lance the truth. That he liked him a little more than just friends, and that he wanted a little more than the usual benefits. Like cuddling without the promise of sex, or spooning in bed after they do. Because Keith knows that Lance was a person who instinctually seeks out that kind of physical intimacy in a partner—has seen it first-hand before he’d force Keith to spend the night eating ice cream with him as he healed another broken heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So it both baffled and hurt him to not be on the receiving end of that affection. He remembered the weight and warmth of that kind of love from before their upgraded situation, back when they were just friends. What changed, then, to necessitate an uncanny distance from the boy who loved to be loved?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith shook his head, getting up from his bed, refusing to cast a longing glance back at the bleary-eyed boy. The boy who definitely wasn’t trailing his gaze across Keith’s scratched back, curling his fingers tighter against his chest so he wouldn’t reach out and tug him back under the covers, so he wouldn’t pin him down and lavish those angry red marks with some of the tenderness he thought the grumpy boy was in sore need of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They showered separately, ate breakfast cordially, and didn’t talk about the gaping chasm of yearning between them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~Summer~</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keith, unsurprisingly, was the one to blurt out a stumbled confession first, shocking Lance into silence for the first time ever. Silence that soon transformed into the happiest laugh, assurance of reciprocation pressed into Keith’s mouth in the form of a searing hot kiss, rooted in something beyond a desire to get in his pants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance took Keith home to Varadero that summer. He’d already bugged Keith enough to get him to agree earlier in the year, though it was originally just as buds. The casual transformation of their relationship should’ve given Keith some anxiety for the trip—because now it was a “meet the parents” type affair—but Lance’s bright smile as he gushed about all the places he wanted to show Keith, all the foods he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to try, all the relatives he had to meet and have fall just as in love with him as Lance had</span>
  <em>
    <span>—“because you’re easily the hottest boyfriend I’ve ever had, and I need everyone to know I can pull tens”</span>
  </em>
  <span>—put the shorter boy at ease. How could he be afraid of the people who gave him Lance McClain?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And though he wasn’t a hundred percent sure yet—though he had a nagging feeling even then—Keith would spend the rest of his seasons loving Lance fucking McClain.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>IF YOU WANT A SUMMARY OF WHAT HAPPENS IN SPRING (this is your warning to ignore if you don't wanna hear about their shenanigans)...</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Spring: Basically, Keith and Lance end up becoming friends-with-benefits and spend their Spring break hooking up and chilling. Lance isn't as touchy and cuddly with Keith as before, which makes him sad because he's a pining mess. Lance is also a pining mess, and both boys just ignore their feelings because they think the other doesn't like them back (in klassic gay fashion).</p><p> </p><p>Thanks for reading! Kudos and comment to feed me some serotonin, and check out my twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/redwlwmushroom">@redwlwmushroom</a> for more fic threads and just general fandom/klance content!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Day 14: Rain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lance gets that passionate kiss in the rain he's always wanted, and a reassurance that he never thought he would</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Prompt list can be found at <a href="https://twitter.com/dailylancevld/status/1358851501607669760">@dailylancevld</a> on Twitter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lance was a romantic. </p><p>He didn’t admit it often, but it wasn’t exactly a secret. And he didn’t try to hide it, really. He was happy letting the world know he had a lot of love, for anyone who was ready to accept it. Which cost him a few broken hearts and a lot of tears, before he realized it was better to reign in the truth sometimes. Wearing his heart on his sleeve was...a little too much. Just like he was.</p><p>Which is why when Keith asked him out, the week before the semester ended and they would no longer have their shitty 8 am together where they could battle it out over who could finish study guides faster, Lance made sure to be <em> chill </em> about it.</p><p>“Sure,” he’d replied, when Keith asked him if he wanted to go see a movie. They’d had a fun time, Lance made sure not to laugh too hard when Keith’s dry humor hit just right, and he even managed to get a kiss by the end of the night. Keith tasted like cherry coke, and Lance bottled up the immeasurably warm feelings rising in his chest that made him want to tell the other boy how much he loved stealing the taste off his lips. </p><p>“Yeah, okay,” he’d said, biting back too wide of a smile, when Keith asked him to <em> go steady </em>—and yes, he even phrased it like that because he got all his advice from Shiro, who was born an old man.</p><p>“I love you too,” he whispered back, the glow in the dark stars brightening his flushed face, glinting off the whites of Keith’s teeth as he smiled with every muscle in his face. Lance’s heart had beat fast, <em> so fast </em> , and he’d almost let it burst right out of his chest. Luckily, Keith’s face was right there, and he could staunch the flow of his too-loud-love by kissing him hard, deeply, drowning in the nonverbal expression of love he could manage for the night without scaring his boyfriend—his boyfriend who <em> loved him </em>—away, like he’d done with everyone else.</p><p>But he should’ve known. He should’ve known Keith would see right through him with those dark, other-worldly eyes. That he could suss out Lance’s true nature no matter how hard he tamped down those loud emotions. He should’ve known prodigy Keith Kogane, top of their class Keith Kogane, one-who’s-gotten-closest-to-Lance’s-heart Keith Kogane would fucking figure him out.</p><p>“You don’t love me,” he said one day, casually like it didn’t shatter him, but Lance knew him better than that. Loving each other didn’t mean Lance tore those walls around his heart down, but that he managed to burrow under them to get to the other side. Somehow, when he wasn’t looking, Keith had built new ones. That casual nonchalance was a testament to his boyfriend hurting more than he was willing to admit.</p><p>“What are you talking about,” Lance chuckled, trying to play it off. </p><p>“At first I thought it was because you were shy,” Keith muttered, eyebrows starting to sink into each other. “You were always so bright and loud when we argued in class. But when we started dating it’s like you started walking on eggshells.”</p><p>“C’mon, Keith. You’re just being—”</p><p>“<em>Don’t </em> call me crazy,” the dark-eyed boy scoffed. “Because it never let up. You laugh, and you shout at me, and we have fun and stuff...but it’s like you’re not <em> you </em> anymore!”</p><p>And Lance knew what was coming. He’s heard those words, that tone, seen that expression too many times to not know his heart was about to be broken. It hurt a little more this time, seeing as he tried doing everything he could to not end up a mess at the nearest bar. Maybe this was just how it’ll always end, at least for him.</p><p>“So I guess that means <em> you </em> don’t love me, huh?” Lance snarked, relying on the last resort he had to keep himself together. If Keith Kogane was gonna break his heart, he deserved to get a few hits in too. “Should’ve known I’d be <em> too much </em> for the great Keith Kogane.”</p><p>Keith shook his head, brows furrowing deeper. “What the fuck are you talking about, Lance? That’s not what I—”</p><p>“It’s fine, Keith,” Lance said sharply, getting up from the couch. He wondered if Hunk had restocked the ice cream or if he had to pick up his own pints on the way back home. “We lasted longer than I thought we would, if I’m being honest. Thought I got it right, this time. Guess not, though.”</p><p>Keith inhaled sharply, following the taller boy as he grabbed his keys. “Wait, Lance—”</p><p>“Can I ask what it was?” Lance cut him off, voice cracking. “Like, I tried my best to not be <em> too much </em>—”</p><p>“Lance—”</p><p>“—and I know I slipped up a few times—”</p><p>“—that’s not what I—”</p><p>“—but I just wanna know if it’s even possible for me to keep someone around, you know?” the blue-eyed boy chuckled, refusing to let the tears welling up drop.</p><p>Keith crossed the length of his apartment quickly, grabbing onto the other boy’s forearms. The inch Lance had on him made him tug at the taller boy until he was looking into Keith’s storm-cloud gaze, as much as he could through the watery film.</p><p>“Lance…” he whispered, voice just as broken as Lance’s heart. “I <em> love </em> you, alright? I loved you before you said yes to that first date, and I’ve loved you every moment since. And it’s because I’ve loved you for what feels like forever that I know you’re not here—with me—the way I want you to be…”</p><p>Lance chuckled wetly, pulling away. “Yeah. I <em> know </em>. I’m too—”</p><p>“You’re not being <em> Lance enough </em> ,” Keith countered, pushing right back into his space. “You end our petty arguments way too quickly, and you stifle your laughs when I know you find things funny, and you never initiate anything, even though I <em> know </em> you want to, because you always used to poke me, or tug on my hair, or throw an arm around my shoulders, or <em> fucking </em> anything, before! </p><p>“And I don’t know what I did to make you so scared of,” Keith paused, inhaling shakily, “<em> being </em> yourself...but I don’t want you to be any less <em> Lance </em> than you are.”</p><p>And Lance heard him. He definitely heard Keith Kogane ask for <em> all </em> of him—the too loud, too much, too <em> Lance </em> parts of him. But he’s kept it all shoved down for so long, that he didn’t know how to be himself—who <em> himself </em> even was—anymore. So he did what he learnt best from all his ex lovers. He bolted.</p><p>_ _ _ . . . _ _ _</p><p>Lance didn’t know what to do. </p><p>Keith had basically told him he loved him—all of him, including the parts he’d thought he’d hidden away so well—and he’d just...ran away. His phone was hidden between one of the couch cushions, the buzzing of the text message notifications finally draining the battery enough that it had died. </p><p>He’d managed to run by a corner store and picked up all the shitty-brand ice cream he could get his hands on before stumbling back to his and Hunk’s shared apartment, settling himself in the reading nook his roommate had built when he realized Lance’s boyfriend liked reading by the window. It was a gift for his latest birthday, a simple DIY that took less than a weekend afternoon, but it was now <em> Keith’s </em> spot in the Garrett-McClain residence. Which made it fitting for Lance to wallow on his failed relationship. He might as well make new memories to cover up the pain of never seeing Keith reading in the afternoon sun again.</p><p>The brunette had his face pressed against the glass, watching the individual raindrops race against each other down the windowpane. Even the sight of two drops of water brought back memories of his stupid rival-turned-boyfriend-turned-love-of-his-life. And he just <em> had </em> to ruin it, <em> fuck </em>.</p><p>It turned out to be a good thing, however, that Lance was basically pressed up against the window. Between the heavy thundering of his heart and, like, the actual thunder outside, he probably wouldn’t have noticed the pebble thrown at the window. It pinged on the other side of the glass right where Lance had pressed his forehead to it, making him scramble back and fall off the stoop. He stood back up, peering out into the rain, eyes catching on a familiar army-green hoodie.</p><p>“Is that my hoodie?” he shouted, wrenching up the window.</p><p>“Yeah, you fucking asshole!” Keith shouted back, rain and wind whipping against his red cheeks. “You forgot it at my place, along with a <em> fucking </em> explanation!”</p><p>“You’re insane!” Lance exclaimed. “You’re <em> actually </em> insane, Kogane! Get the fuck inside, you wet rat!”</p><p>“No!” Keith retorted, planting his feet firmly in the soggy grass, arms shoved into the pockets of <em> Lance’s </em>hoodie. “You get out here right now and fucking listen to me without running away!”</p><p>“I am <em> not </em> coming out there in the middle of a thunderstorm!” </p><p>“Well I’m not leaving until you do! And I’m not giving you back this jacket unless you come take it <em> from </em> me!”</p><p>Lance screamed at the ceiling, slammed his window shut, and trudged out of his apartment complex. He thought about taking an umbrella, but with the wind and rain he knew it wouldn’t have made a difference.</p><p>Keith was waiting for him, having not moved an inch. Lance squinted, partially to see and partially because he was <em> fucking pissed </em>.</p><p>“You happy now, mullet?!” he screamed, no farther than a foot apart. It was louder out here, and he could barely see the other boy even this close.</p><p>“Fucking dandy,” the shorter boy retorted, stepping closer. “Absolutely ecstatic.”</p><p>“Just give me my jacket and let me go,” Lance shouted, tugging on his sleeves. “You didn’t have to make a scene out of this.”</p><p>“See, but the thing is, I <em> don’t </em> want to let you,” Keith retorted, stepping close enough that Lance could finally see him clearly. His face was pinched in that expression he’d get when he was frustrated with something, or when he was dead serious. Lance couldn’t bet on which one he was feeling right now.</p><p>Keith reached up, wrapping his arms around Lance’s neck, pulling him down so their foreheads were pressed against each other, their proximity blocking the rain from getting between them. “I’m not letting you go, McClain. I don’t know why you’re so ready to see me leave, but I promise you I don’t want to.”</p><p>“But we had a fight,” Lance tried explaining, fingers curling familiarly around Keith’s waist, under the fabric of his jacket. “You said I wasn’t being the right <em> Lance </em>!”</p><p>“I was trying to say I didn’t want you to hold back,” Keith croaked, letting his new walls crumble a little. He was letting Lance in willingly, on his own terms. “I <em> know </em> you, sweetheart. I know when you’re <em> not </em> you, too.”</p><p>And Lance hoped Keith couldn’t tell the difference between the storm and his tears, but he knew that was asking for too much. “I’m scared,” he admitted, drawing closer. “People don’t...I always end up alone.”</p><p>“Not this time,” Keith promised, not looking away. “You’re not gonna scare me off, Lance. I’m made of tougher stuff. <em> We’re </em> made of tougher stuff.”</p><p>Lance huffed, a semblance of a smile stretching at the corner of his lips. “I don’t know if that’s enough, though…”</p><p>“It’s a start,” Keith reassured. “All I know is that I don’t want this to be the end. Not yet, at least.”</p><p>“Me too,” Lance confessed, hiccuping.</p><p>“Then don’t let it be,” Keith whispered. Lance felt his words more than heard them, ghosting across his lips.</p><p>“Okay,” Lance muttered, letting himself fall into the other boy’s orbit as their lips met. </p><p>They had a lot to talk about, and they were definitely going to be reprimanded by Hunk when they  ended up bed-ridden for the next few days with a nasty cold. But Lance smiled into the kiss, knowing Keith had him, and he had Keith, and that this wasn’t the end. </p><p>And Keith may not be a romantic, but a passionate kiss in the rain definitely didn’t hurt his chances with Lance.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! Kudos and comment to feed me some serotonin, and check out my twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/redwlwmushroom">@redwlwmushroom</a> for more fic threads and just general fandom/klance content!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Day 15: Cry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lance finally tells someone that he died.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Prompt list can be found at <a href="https://twitter.com/dailylancevld/status/1358851501607669760">@dailylancevld</a> on Twitter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Keith was sure he knew what pain felt like. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s been through a lot in his time in space. Gotten shot, blown up, nonconsensually aged up...Keith’s seen a lot more than he thought he’d see. But pain seemed to take on a new meaning staring into Lance’s bright, blue eyes right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Keith whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keith—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he said again, louder. “No, you can’t—no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance sighed, looking more tired than his years should warrant. “Keith, please. It’s not that big—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“NO!” Keith shouted, moving away from Lance’s outstretched arm. “No, you can’t just brush this aside, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lance</span>
  </em>
  <span>! This isn’t like you left your bayard in the training room and the cleaning bot threw it in the weapons cabinet again—</span>
  <em>
    <span>you just said you fucking died!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance rolled his eyes, </span>
  <em>
    <span>as if that was something to roll his eyes at</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, okay? Allura got to me in time and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lance, shut up,” Keith muttered, desperately hoping his voice didn’t waver as much as his hands were. “You...you </span>
  <em>
    <span>died</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and I—I wasn’t there—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Lance whispered, reaching out again. This time Keith didn’t move away quick enough, and Lance’s arms found his, wound around his shoulders and pressed against the top of his spine, forcing him to look the taller boy in his eyes. “That was a while ago, okay? I’m here now, mullet. Everything’s f—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare,” Keith warned, voice low. “You could’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> been here, and I wasn’t there to do anything about it. If Allura had bee—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But she wasn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—but if she </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Keith exclaimed, curling his fingers tightly in the other’s shirt. It felt like cotton, material well-worn. If Keith wasn’t halfway to a breakdown, he might’ve marvelled at the softness of the fabric, how love seemed to be woven into it with time and care and memories. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>died</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Lance. You died and if Allura had been a second late—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>She wasn’t!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>But she could’ve been!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Keith cut him off. “And you wouldn’t be here! And I can’t—I don’t—</span>
  <em>
    <span>what don’t you get about that</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop, okay!” Lance shouted, forcing Keith back into their pseudo-embrace, pressing their foreheads against each other, tight. Keith could either close his eyes or stare into oceans, and now knowing he almost lost them forever, it wasn’t really a question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not until you understand,” Keith choked. “I don’t care how unaffected you act, Lance. The possibility that you—you wouldn’t be here right now...that’s not something I can just brush off. Not like you can, apparently.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance shuddered, jaw clenching. “It happened really fast,” he confessed, voice taking on a low tone. “I don’t know what to tell you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you tell us?” Keith asked, tugging at the fabric twisted in his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance exhaled shakily, shutting his eyes. “I didn’t know how.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not an excuse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You almost died.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I know</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...I don’t think you do,” Keith whispered, watching the other boy’s face twist. “You...this is something too big to bottle up, Lance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Lance choked, jaw clenched. The arms around Keith were shaking, and the shorter boy was quick to untangle his fingers from Lance’s shirt, letting them slide around his shaking body and pulling him in the last few inches. He felt long arms fully encircle his shoulders, Lance’s face tucked into the juncture of his neck. He felt his hair shift at the other boy’s shaky breaths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry we weren’t there for you, Lance,” Keith whispered across the shell of his ear. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other boy didn’t respond, but Keith held him close as he finally let the tears fall.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! Kudos and comment to feed me some serotonin, and check out my twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/redwlwmushroom">@redwlwmushroom</a> for more fic threads and just general fandom/klance content!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Day 16: Snap (and Angst)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lance is done™. :)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We were talking about dark!Lance in the chat the other day, and I didn't really expect anything to come of it but uh...yeah lol! Lowkey very rushed and like not fleshed out well, but eh whatever I'll fix it if I ever intend to expand on this ('cause its such a good concept tbh)!</p><p>Prompt list can be found at <a href="https://twitter.com/dailylancevld/status/1358851501607669760">@dailylancevld</a> on Twitter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He didn’t really mean to snap, but Lance knew it was kind of a long time coming. He doesn’t remember what exactly was said, only that everyone was laughing and the familiar emotion of <em> red </em> filled his veins, until he found himself no longer lounging one of the couches, but instead standing by the door.</p><p>“No, fuck you,” he said, startling the rest of his teammates. Their gazes all snapped to him, taking in the nasty expression on his face and the tense set of his shoulders. “I’m done. I know it’s all fun and games for you guys, but I am <em> so </em> done being the verbal punching bag of Voltron. Good fucking night.”</p><p>And with the righteous fury of indignation, Lance turned on his heel and marched out of the common room, shoulders bunched near his ears and hands shoved roughly in his pockets. He was furious—which wasn’t new, to be honest, but he never intended to show it—and his heavy footsteps were a testament to the rage.</p><p>Lance knew he wasn’t the most serious defender of the universe. He was loud, showboaty, a little obnoxious, flirty when sometimes he shouldn’t be, and the resident jokester of the group. That was just who he was, be it a result of growing up the youngest of five, or constantly fighting for a chance to be heard. It was the only way he knew how to survive, to make a place for himself in this world.</p><p>So he accepted when his team started laughing at him, instead of with him. Because at least they were still laughing, right? Between Keith fucking off to the Blades, and Lotor joining the group, and Shiro being...weird, they were all bound to look for some comfort destressors. And Lance happily provided them with that, acting up the part of the goofball to get rid of a few worry wrinkles on his friends’ faces. </p><p>But then it started to feel like they were seeking him out. Like that was <em> all </em> he was good for, to take out some stress. Allura ignored him, Pidge and Hunk made fun of him, Shiro berated him, Lotor...uh, didn’t really interact with him. Even Coran seemed to deem him unworthy of sharing his insane stories, as if he couldn’t even lend a proper ear. </p><p>And Lance was trying his best, he really was. But he was also human. Just a fucking boy from Cuba, and all that. So how could they expect him to shoulder the weight of the world with them, on top of all these insecurities they’re manifesting in him? Because Lance knew he was hot shit, really. But it was getting harder to convince himself to believe that when everyone around him seemed to forgo the hot part, leaving him only with shit.</p><p>So he bypassed their bedroom-wing, the control room, the training room, and the kitchen, walking past his former lion’s hanger to his current one’s.</p><p>“Hey Red,” he called, shooting him a wry smile. “Let’s go for a spin.”</p><p>And Lance felt the lion’s excitement, the way he felt Lance’s eagerness to get out and get out fast. He didn’t know where he wanted to go, didn’t have a map, or plan, or any idea of what he wanted other than to run away from these loud thoughts. But that was enough for Red. Lance was enough for Red.</p><p>Activating his thrusters, Lance shot out from the hanger, laughing at the streaks of passing stars on his windshield. He whooped, loud and high, and Red responded with an excited rumble. They fed each other on a feedback loop of exhilaration, egging each other on until Lance was pushing speeds Keith couldn’t even fathom from when he was the red paladin.</p><p><em> Good</em>, he thought darkly. <em> Red is mine, now </em>.</p><p>Lance ignored the blinking of the comms, having muted them as soon as he took off. The profiles of his team and even Coran and Lotor kept flashing, signalling incoming calls. He swiped them away, pressing a button so Red wouldn’t even bother with them anymore.</p><p>“M’tired of them, Red,” he whined executing a few maneuvers Allura always complained were too dangerous in battle. “I know I should’ve maybe been calmer about it, but I just <em> so </em> fucking tired.”</p><p>Red murmured feelings of reassurance, assuaging the anxiety rising in his chest. Lance patted the dashboard in return, laughing when the robotic cat actually purred in response. He was laughing so hard he almost missed a new notification, someone even Red wasn’t willing to ignore.</p><p>“Keith?” he answered, pulling up the videofeed.</p><p>“Lance,” Keith said, frowning. His hair was disheveled, eyes sunken more than last he saw him. He was in his blade uniform, armor and all, but his hood was down and he looked to be in his room. “Where are you?”</p><p>“Just flying,” he replied breezily. “Why, what’s up? You never call, lol.”</p><p>“Shiro messaged me,” he said, brows furrowing. “Apparently you stormed out and aren’t responding to the team’s calls.”</p><p>“That isn’t...not true?”</p><p>The blade member sighed, rolling his eyes. “Of course. Just go back to the castle, Lance. You need to be ready in case of an attack, not taking Red out on random drives because you can’t sit still.”</p><p>Lance scoffed, gripping the handles tighter. “Man, you’re gonna give me a lecture about sitting still, huh? That’s rich.”</p><p>“Stop acting like a child and just go back, Lance,” Keith retorted. “I’m sure you’re just blowing whatever it is out of propor—”</p><p>“No,” Lance interrupted. “No, you don’t get to talk to me like that. None of you do, anymore. I know you think you guys are better than me, or whatever, but I’m <em> done </em> accepting less-than-mediocre decency from the likes of you assholes!”</p><p>“Lance—”</p><p>“No, we’re supposed to be a team,” Lance interjected, ignoring the shocked look on Keith’s face. He’s been gone a long time, but apparently it wasn’t long enough to forget that Lance <em> never </em> cursed. <em> Well, a lot has changed, mullet </em>.</p><p>“But it hasn’t felt like that in a long ass time,” he continued, swerving around asteroids jerkily. “You fucked off to the Blades, stupid Lotor joined the team, Shiro’s always going AWOL—”</p><p>“Wait—”</p><p>“—No! I’m talking, and you’re listening to me, you dick,” Lance shouted, ignoring the other boy’s gasp. “I’m done with this whole schtick, okay? Come back and take your stupid lion and form Voltron without me. I’m tired of being the laughingstock of the entire coalition. McClain, out.”</p><p>And with that, he cut off transmission, landing Red on the nearest deserted moon. He sent Keith’s comm the coordinates to find Red, and then exited. He could hear the lion growling in the back of his head, begging him not to go. Lance sent an apology back, a goodbye, hoping Red wouldn’t hate him for this. He loved his hotheaded companion, really. But flying Red meant staying tied to a legacy that would leave him in both body and spirit. And Lance was always about that self-care.</p><p>He left his paladin armor in the cockpit, trading it for the generic standard space suit he kept stored in case of emergencies. He left his Earth clothes behind too. Lance wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted to do, but a clean break seemed like the best place to start.</p><p>He caught a ride to the nearest swap moon with a passing cargo ship, them luckily spotting his signal as they flew by. It wasn’t hard to get lost in a crowd there, avoiding eyes and having his eyes avoided in return. He spent an entire week wandering around, just passing the time until he could will the rest of his anguish away, though it seemed to be rooted in his chest.</p><p>Lance almost hoped for some kind of drama, just to have something to do, when he was honest-to-god jumped by a group of cloaked figures. He tried to fight back, wishing he’d at least kept his bayard with him when he left, only to be knocked out cold. He awoke afterwards, hands tied behind him, faced with a familiar wrinkled figure.</p><p>“Who would have thought I’d get my hands on a paladin of Voltron on a shady swap moon?” Haggar croaked, her screechy voice barely containing her glee.</p><p>“Well you must be <em> real </em>lucky, since I defected last week,” Lance chuckled, watching her face crumple.</p><p>“What do you mean?” she growled, clawed hands tugging at his hair.</p><p>“Fuck,” he choked, steeling his gaze in spite of the pain. “I mean, I gave up my spot on the team. Do whatever you want with me, witch, but I have no more a connection to Voltron than you do.”</p><p>At first, he thought Haggar would kill him, then and there. He was of no use to her, no longer had <em> any </em> importance according to the implicit rules of their universe. Lance wasn’t a fighter pilot, wasn’t a paladin, wasn’t even technically a nameless rebel, and therefore worthless.</p><p>“So you are currently cause-less,” Haggar whispered, her dry lips cracking widely into what Lance thought could be a smile. “Unaligned.”</p><p>“Uh, sure?”</p><p>The witch chuckled darkly, letting him go. She snapped her fingers, and Lance felt the manacles holding his arms back drop. He slowly moved his hands to the front, eyeing his newly-found freedom.</p><p>“You are not worthless, former paladin,” she said, addressing the thoughts he hadn’t spoken aloud. “In fact, you might be just the piece I need to win this game.”</p><p>Lance frowned. “And why should I join you and your psycho army?”</p><p>“What have you left to lose, Blue?”</p><p>And maybe it was the week Lance had been having, but for the first time in a while, he felt <em> wanted </em>. Worthy.</p><p>The former paladin smirked, a dark glint in his eyes. “You got me there.” He reached out an arm, holding his hand out open.</p><p>Haggar took it, allowing Lance to shake it. “You will make your former team a formidable opponent, Blue. I am eager to see what we shall achieve together.”</p><p>And Lance knew it was wrong—that Haggar was evil and definitely didn’t have his best interests at heart...but holy hell if he didn’t feel alive again.</p><p>“When can I start?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! Kudos and comment to feed me some serotonin, and check out my twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/redwlwmushroom">@redwlwmushroom</a> for more fic threads and just general fandom/klance content!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>